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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988836">Shadows in a Mirror</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalStorytelling/pseuds/OccasionalStorytelling'>OccasionalStorytelling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Electrocution, Physical Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:55:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalStorytelling/pseuds/OccasionalStorytelling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the end of the Dominion War, Julian Bashir and Elim Garak went their separate ways. Julian continued to work at DS9, and Garak returned to Cardassia Prime, becoming its “Ambassador to the Federation.” </p><p>They kept in touch, sending letters back and forth across the galaxy, until Garak sent a letter that didn't get a response. Convinced Julian has been kidnapped, Garak is ready to call in every favor he’s ever earned to find his doctor. Somewhere in the vastness of space, Julian is in trouble. The only question is whether or not Garak will be able to find him in time to save him.</p><p>Meanwhile, Julian wakes up captive on the Hurricane, a Mirror Universe ship captained by the brutal Mirror Bashir. Bashir is suffering a genetic instability, and needs Julian to find the cure. If he doesn't...Bashir is going to make sure Julian is the first one of them to die.</p><p>Will Julian find a cure that saves Captain Bashir in time? Will Garak find Julian before consequences catch up with the both of them? And what's going on with the mysterious Cardassian crew of the Hurricane?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ???, ???</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, I know I SAID I was going to finish I Need To Tell You (abandoned November 2015) and Things Left Unsaid (abandoned October of this year) but this time I PROMISE I will finish the story I was trying to tell. If you haven't seen the others, don't bother with I Need To Tell You, it's just a whump with no plot. And Things Left Unsaid was just an attempt to rewrite it without fixing any of the structural problems. But now, I present Shadows in a Mirror! Complete with an actual plot and all the things a story needs. It WILL be completed, and I waited longer before starting to post so I could make that promise with CONFIDENCE! See that chapter count? Don't worry guys, THIS time it's getting finished. I'm doing it right this time!!!</p><p>update: Complete! I DID finish it! ha ha ha, take THAT, 2015 me who thought it would never happen!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doctor Julian Bashir woke up with the worst headache he’d had in a long time. It was an effort just to force his eyes to open and face the sizzling overhead lights. Julian blinked a few times, eyes crusty with sleep. He felt awful. Had he overdone it on the synthehol the night before? Impossible, the amount he’d have to drink to overwhelm his genetically-enhanced metabolism was ridiculous. He slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was in a brightly lit room, but the walls were dark and grimy, not like the crisp, clean white of of a Starfleet setting. Julian blinked a few more times.</p><p> </p><p>He was in a well-lit medbay, recognizable even despite the general dirt and disorganization. Where was he? The last thing he could remember, he’d been at a medical conference on Chroma Seven. He’d boarded the shuttle that was supposed to take him home, but on the way back to the station, they’d been attacked…and now, he was here. That couldn’t be a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>Across the the room sat a Cardassian Julian didn’t recognize, working busily at a desk. Julian made to sit up and talk to him, and discovered that he was strapped down to the bed. Also not a good sign. Julian pulled on the restraints, but they didn’t give.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, hello?” Julian tried to catch the Cardassian’s attention. “Excuse me, but what’s going on here? Where am I?”</p><p> </p><p>The Cardassian looked up from his work, eyes wide. He glanced nervously at the door, and then looked back at Julian, putting a finger to his lips. “Shh.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Don’t <em>shush </em>me,” Julian struggled in the restraints. “Who are you? What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh!” The Cardassian hissed. He looked at the door again, then hunched back over the table, working on something Julian couldn’t see. Julian could hear a loud, repeated <em>thumping </em>sound outside the heavy medbay doors.</p><p> </p><p>Julian decided that caution might be the better part of valor. He leaned towards the Cardassian, as much as he could, and whispered, “Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>The Cardassian shook his head a few times. “Please, you have to be quiet!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Julian asked. “Just tell me what’s going on!” The rhythmic thumping outside the door grew louder. Footsteps, Julian realized. He looked around for anything close enough to grab and use as a weapon, but there wasn’t anything in reach. He tugged on the restraints, as hard as he could, and managed only to generate a twisting pain in his wrists.</p><p> </p><p>The Cardassian didn’t respond. He just hunched over his desk, staring down at it like it was the most important thing he’d ever seen. The footsteps stopped, and the door opened with a <em>swoosh.</em></p><p> </p><p>Julian Bashir looked at the man who entered. Standing tall, a few days growth of beard on his face, and an evil look in his eye. It was Julian Bashir…from the Mirror Universe, Julian realized.</p><p> </p><p>“Captain,” the Cardassian straitened up at his desk, bowing his head respectfully.</p><p> </p><p>“Kelas,” Mirror Bashir grinned, eyeing Julian up and down. “I thought I said to inform me as soon as he woke up.” Bashir wore loose, brown civilian clothes, stained in a few places with what looked like phaser burns.</p><p> </p><p>“He only just woke up, sir,” the Cardassian said, head still bowed. “I wanted to—“</p><p> </p><p>“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Kelas,” Bashir’s nonchalant expression didn’t change as he slapped the Cardassian harshly up the back of the head. “It doesn’t matter what you want, the only thing that matters is <em>my orders. </em>Got it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sir,” Kelas said, looking down at the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Now then,” Bashir grinned, stepping closer to Julian. “Where are my manners? You’re a guest here, Julian—do you mind if I call you Jules?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t,” Julian responded tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“All right, all right, you’re angry,” Bashir held up his hands. “I get it. But don’t worry, I just need you to do one little thing and then you’ll be headed right back to Terek Nor, safe and sound.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Deep Space Nine,” Julian glared. “Unless we’re in <em>your </em>universe. Where are we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kelas,” Bashir snapped. “Let him loose.” Kelas stood up, and still looking at the floor, hurried meekly to Julian’s bed, and undid the straps. Julian sat up and rubbed at his wrist, looking Bashir in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>“All right,” Julian sighed. “Let’s get this over with. What do you want from me, exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Medical care,” Bashir sneered. “You’re a doctor, what do you <em>think </em>I want from you?”</p><p> </p><p>“What seems to be the problem?” Julian glared back at him, and crossed his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir bit his lip nervously, then angrily rounded on Kelas, who stood behind Julian’s bed. “Get back to your station! What are you still doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Apologies,” Kelas said, scurrying back to the table. He hunched over it like his life depended on it.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you…sick?” Julian ventured.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not <em>sick,” </em>Bashir growled. “There’s…an increasing instability in my genetic code. I need you to fix it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What makes you think I can fix it?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with <em>your </em>genes<em>, </em>is there?” Bashir gestured angrily. “You got lucky, you got your modifications handed to you on a silver platter. <em>I </em>was experimented on in a prison camp, and now <em>my </em>modifications are starting to…fail.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does that mean?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir glanced at Kelas, before leaning closer to Julian and muttering his answer. “Joint pain. Difficulty moving. Cramping muscles, I’m cold all the time…and other stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“May I?” Julian reached for Bashir’s hand. Bashir sullenly presented it. Julian rubbed at the skin with his fingers. Bashir’s hand was dry and dirty, and stiff in all the wrong places. “I think you might be losing blood flow to your extremities, too,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you fix it?” Bashir snatched his hand away. “I don’t know, print your genetic code onto mine so it stops malfunctioning, or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can do my best with gene therapy,” Julian said. “But I’ll need to run some tests, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t even think about refusing to help me,” Bashir leaned close to Julian, scowling and creating right in his face. “You’ll cure me, or I’ll kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a doctor,” Julian said, inching away. “You’re a patient. It’s my duty to help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Duty,” Bashir scoffed and pulled away. “That’s why I hate this universe. Everyone’s so uptight and prissy.” Bashir rubbed his hands in his already-disheveled hair, messing it up even further. “Duty, duty—“</p><p> </p><p>A staticky crackling sound echoed through the medbay. Julian winced at the sound, but Bashir didn’t flinch. He just pushed a button on a device circling his wrist, and barked into it, “Go for Bashir, <em>what</em> is so goddamn important that I’m being disturbed?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian covered his ears at the high whine that emerged from the device. “We need a heading, sir,” came the voice on the other end of the comm line.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m coming,” Bashir growled and slammed his fist, closing the communication line. “You can hear that?” he raised an eyebrow at Julian. “I picked the frequency myself. Stops eavesdropping.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um…yes?” Julian responded. “You’re not the only one with enhanced hearing, anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Bashir grumbled. “Kelas! Give him whatever help he needs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sir,” Kelas bowed his head again as Bashir stomped out of the medbay, footsteps thumping down the hall as he marched off. Julian watched as Kelas visibly relaxed, loosening his shoulders and running a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry about all this,” Kelas sighed. “It’s not always like that, but he’s only been getting worse…Kelas Parmak.” Kelas extended a hand, and Julian shook it.</p><p> </p><p>“Julian Bashir,” Julian smiled weakly.</p><p> </p><p>“This is fascinating,” Kelas said, circling Julian and examining him. “You really look just like the Captain.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re from the Mirror Universe,” Julian said. “You’ve never been here before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Never, until our fearless Captain forced us here,” Kelas feigned a mocking salute. “And don’t worry. This <em>is </em>your universe. The Captain’s starting to collect a few too many enemies in ours, and he didn’t want any distractions.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is all this?” Julian waved his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um…welcome to the Hurricane, previously a scouting ship, now commanded by Captain Bashir,” Kelas gestured to the extent of the small, dirty medbay. “The Captain won the crew in a bet, and we’re stuck here as…well—“</p><p> </p><p>“His slaves,” Julian scowled in disgust. “Why haven’t you risen up against him, after the way he treats you? How many of you are there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only two, three since he kidnapped you,” Kelas sighed. “He’s stronger than us, he’s faster, and the life support is set to ‘Terran,’ so it’s hard enough just to keep working in this cold.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s awful,” Julian said. “I know a Cardassian who compared Terran—I mean, Human life support settings to torture.” Julian remembered that Garak had been driven to overdosing, almost to death after enduring years of life on Deep Space Nine. “I’m so sorry, Kelas.”</p><p> </p><p>“We make do,” Kelas sighed. “We’ve had no choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with Bashir, really?” Julian asked. “You said he’s been getting worse?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Kelas glanced nervously back at the door, as if expecting Bashir to pop back in and yell at him again. “He won’t admit it, but we’ve noticed. His mood swings are getting worse, more violent. And he’s been having gaps in his memory.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll need to examine him,” Julian frowned, thinking. “Do you have a working tricorder?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you really going to cure him?” Kelas asked. “You <em>should</em> be trying to escape.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a doctor, he’s a patient,” Julian repeated firmly. “If I can help him, I will.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just hope it will be enough to save your life,” Kelas shook his head sadly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ambassador's Office, Cardassia Prime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ambassador Elim Garak closed his eyes and leaned back at his desk. It seemed that every day, another stack of paperwork arrived. Requests for redistribution of Starfleet aid resources, bureaucratic forms that needed signatures, letters begging for advice from almost every sector of the government… It was ironic, Garak thought, that not even a few years ago, it would have been political suicide for any of these people to send so much as a word to him in his exile, yet now, they demanded his counsel like children. Garak’s work was never done, and more papers and PADDs arrived every day, but Garak couldn’t find it in his heart to care just then. He was waiting for one letter in particular, one that had failed to arrive.</p><p> </p><p>Garak had sent a letter to Julian (currently at a medical conference) a week ago already, and he had yet to receive a response. Under normal circumstances, Julian never waited more than a day to write back. This was the longest Garak had gone without any word from him in some time. It was almost enough to make one consider sending a second letter, before receiving an answer to the first—as if Garak was some naive schoolboy, frantically trying to communicate with a crush. No, Garak could never compromise his dignity in such a way. What he <em>would </em>do was some private investigation, just a little hobby of his, left over from his days with the Obsidian Order.</p><p> </p><p>Garak pushed the button on his desk to summon his assistant, Sigue Letell. “Letell, more tea, please,” Garak said. He then carefully moved his paperwork for the day to the side of his desk (it wouldn’t do to be disorganized) and cracked his knuckles. He logged into his computer with a different, non-government-sanctioned set of credentials, and got to work.</p><p> </p><p>On a Federation news site, Garak found a short section on Julian’s medical conference. Apparently, it had been the scandal of Chroma Seven when a certain Human man interrupted a panel to accuse another doctor of confusing correlation and causation in a recent report. Garak chuckled, imagining the scene. Unfortunately, the news had not provided photos of the incident. But it did confirm, as Garak had already known, that the conference ended three days prior, which meant that surely Julian would be back aboard Deep Space Nine by now.</p><p> </p><p>Garak looked over the incoming ship report from Deep Space Nine. He didn’t see anything that looked like the shuttle Julian would have used. Odd. Garak let himself into the Deep Space Nine security system, just to see if there was anything he’d missed. What he found was a report, indicating that a shuttle <em>had </em>been expected to arrive, but was mysteriously missing. Letell arrived with tea, and Garak hastily closed his screen.</p><p> </p><p>“Your tea, sir,” Letell said.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Letell,” Garak said. “What’s that you have in your other hand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Data from the new agricultural plans in the Third Sector,” Letell said, placing it on the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Well, thank you, Letell,” Garak sighed, rubbing his forehead. He placed the file on top of the others, off to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“If I may, sir,” Letell said. “Are you working on the Starfleet resources allocation form, or the trade agreement contracts?”</p><p> </p><p>Garak knew what Letell meant. “Why aren’t you working?” Letell wanted to know, with the all the subtlety of a rampaging Toj’lath.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m reading Federation news reports,” Garak said, sipping his tea. “As an ambassador, I’m always working, even when I seem to be taking a break.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Letell said. “The agricultural data needs to be reviewed by this evening. Sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you Letell,” Garak said again, waving a hand to dismiss him. Letell left the office, and Garak sighed. He really didn’t have time for a side project right now. His work on Cardassia was too important. Garak took another sip of his tea, and opened his computer again. He’d just check one more thing, then he’d put Julian out of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Garak used an access code (one he wasn’t supposed to have) to connect to the Starfleet news bulletin, the one sent out to update captains about relevant events. Likely, there’d be a note about a shuttle off-course, in need of help returning to Deep Space Nine. Instead, buried next to a section about a collapsing star, Garak found a three sentence report that chilled him to the core:</p><p> </p><p>[Debris field detected along shuttle route 87754. Mass indicates class 2 shuttle, possibly class 3 missing escape pods. No organic material registered.]</p><p> </p><p>And that was it. It didn’t even include instructions to search the area for survivors. It took less than thirty seconds for Garak to verify that it had been Julian’s shuttle route, and the time frame matched the conference perfectly. Julian’s shuttle <em>wasn’t </em>missing or off-course, it was <em>destroyed. </em>And it seemed as if the Federation was fully prepared to ignore it, just another loss to the unpredictability of space travel.</p><p> </p><p>Something was wrong, Garak could feel it. Somewhere out in the galaxy, Julian was in trouble. At best, he was in an escape pod, crash-landed on an alien planet. At worst, he was already dead. Garak knew Starfleet had protocols to find lost crew members, and it would probably be less than 24 hours until the first search teams were sent out after Julian and the rest of the shuttle crew, but for some reason, this didn’t make Garak feel any better. He felt certain that Julian needed help; he should have known from the moment he realized Julian’s letter was late.</p><p> </p><p>But there wasn’t anything Garak could do about it…was there?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Toj’lath: a fat Cardassian horned animal, sometimes representing royalty</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Hurricane, near Shuttle Route 87754</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ignoring Kelas’s warnings about Bashir’s wrath, Julian snuck out of the medbay. He explored the Hurricane, and soon discovered that the rest of the ship was just as beat-up, dirty, and trashed as as the medbay. Julian carefully sidestepped a pile of rusty tools as he made his way down the hallway. He found a (clearly abandoned) cafeteria, a few (empty) crew quarters, and a storage room piled up to the top with boxes and cargo cylinders. Julian scrounged through a few of them, and didn’t find much that wasn’t garbage. He snuck past the bridge while Bashir was in the middle of angrily yelling about something. Julian peeked inside. There was another Cardassian at the navigation station, head bowed as he took the abuse just as Kelas had. Bashir was frustrated that the navigation charts from the Mirror Universe didn’t match the sensor scans of this universe, and was explaining exactly what would happen if the issue wasn’t resolved. Julian winced sympathetically on the Cardassian’s behalf, and slipped quietly past, unnoticed. He kept exploring.</p><p> </p><p>There was a soft hum coming from the engine room. It was different than the usual sounds of the warp core, though. Julian followed it, and entered the cramped, dark engine room, where pulsating purple lights emanated from the warp core. Julian followed the hum to a pile of junk, which he shoved off of the control panels. Behind the junk was a device, shaped like an egg, but with a ring cut out of the middle. Julian examined it. It looked like a transporter of some kind, based on the controls, but he’d never seen anything like it before. He fiddled with some of the readouts, trying to understand it. There was a control for “ion field,” and Julian realized what he must be looking at. Normal transporters can’t travel between his universe and the Mirror universe without extenuating circumstances, like an ion storm. This device must be how the Hurricane had gotten here. And if it was a transporter, it would have Bashir’s patterns saved, possibly from before his genetic imbalance started affecting him. If Julian could find thatcomplete pattern and analyze it, he’d be one step closer to curing Bashir.</p><p> </p><p>There was a minor problem. He had no idea how the device worked, and he was a little scared to touch it too much—Mirror technology wasn’t exactly known for being user friendly. But with a little effort, he managed to navigate to a menu that <em>might </em>have been transporter patterns. He’d need to come back with a PADD so he could take the data back to the medbay. He turned around, and bumped into Bashir, who was standing quietly behind him, glaring.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Uh, hello,” Julian said awkwardly. “Do you have a PADD on you, by any chance?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha! Too dumb to understand our technology?” Bashir snorted. “It’s <em>far </em>beyond the science of <em>your </em>universe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I was hoping to get a readout from the pattern buffers from before you—“ Julian started trying to explain, but Bashir cut him off.</p><p> </p><p>“You were <em>trying </em>to escape,” Bashir scowled.</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking, if I could record your genetic pattern from <em>before </em>the degradation started occurring, I could—“ Julian tried again, and was startled when Bashir decked him right in the face. Stunned, Julian rubbed at his nose while Bashir grabbed his arm and started dragging him out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t trust anyone, not even yourself,” Bashir grumbled to himself. He scowled down at Julian. “Try something like this again, and I’ll put an agonizer on you. You’re lucky I need you alive.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I were lucky—ow—I wouldn’t be <em>here,</em>” Julian winced. He felt something warm and sticky on his face. His nose was bleeding.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>That’s </em>for sure,” Bashir barked with laughter as he continued to drag Julian down the hall to the bridge. When they arrived, Bashir unceremoniously dumped Julian on the floor. Julian held his nose and awkwardly clambered to his feet. He was in front of the navigation station. He looked up, and the Cardassian behind it looked horrible. He was bruised, he was sporting a cut along his neck ridges, and he was missing a few scales—there was a soft green spot over his eyebrow ridge where a small patch of them had ripped away. He was unmistakable, even in these surroundings and that unfamiliar grey uniform. It was Elim Garak.</p><p> </p><p>“Garak,” Julian whispered, and for a moment, he thought it was <em>his </em>Garak, come to rescue him like a knight from a fantasy. But Julian had never seen Garak look like <em>that. </em>The look in his eye was just…completely dejected, like he was already dead and hadn’t yet fallen over. At the sound of his name, Elim Garak from the Mirror Universe startled, and squinted at Julian like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.</p><p> </p><p>Elim looked frantically up at Bashir. “Sir? What do I—“</p><p> </p><p>“Put a buzzer on him,” Bashir said. “He was sneaking around engineering.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir,” Elim bowed his head. “What range, sir?”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to know when he’s out of the medbay,” Bashir waved his hand. “Set it as strong as you like.”</p><p> </p><p>Elim dove below the navigation table, and dug through a box of parts. He emerged with a small metal band with red buttons on it. He hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at Bashir before leaning close to Julian and locking it around his upper arm.</p><p> </p><p>“This is inhumane,” Julian glared at Bashir.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just an electric fence. You’ll live,” Bashir rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any idea what temperature it is here?” Julian fumed. “This is no place for a Cardassian, especially not for a sustained period of time. It’s even colder than the medbay! I’d lose scales myself if I was constantly 30 degrees below comfort level. You need to adjust the life support system.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” Bashir coughed.</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me,” Julian crossed his arms. “I can help with that, if you need it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to <em>adjust the life support system,</em>” Bashir said, incredulous. “Lizards know what they’re getting into when they leave the desert. This is the temperature of a regular starship, I’m not changing it.”</p><p> </p><p>“But half the ship is Cardassian!” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Bashir said. “And I’ll admit, they’re slower than usual, but better that than warm and angry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re no Captain,” Julian scoffed. “You’re—“</p><p> </p><p>“I leaned how to take charge from Ben Sisko!” Bashir growled, grabbing Julian by the front of his shirt. “If you disagree with my <em>command style, </em>you’re welcome to throw yourself out an airlock!”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I <em>will,</em>” Julian spat back.</p><p> </p><p>“Calibrated, sir,” Elim said.</p><p> </p><p>Julian felt a painful shock buzz him from the metal band. “Ow! Hey!” After a few seconds, another shock jolted him.</p><p> </p><p>“Better get back to the medbay,” Bashir laughed. “Elim! You’re going soft, I can’t believe you set it so low!”</p><p> </p><p>“His genetic enhancements must be lessening the effect, sir,” Elim said, looking down at the floor. Was it Julian’s imagination, or was Elim trying to catch his eye? Elim kept glancing quickly up at Julian, then back down, and—</p><p> </p><p>“Ow!” another shock snapped Julian out of his thoughts. “Bashir, this conversation isn’t over.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can talk about if after you cure me,” Bashir waved his hand, clearly dismissing Julian. Julian ran back down the hall, interrupted by shocks every few seconds until he made it back to the medbay. He could still faintly hear Bashir yelling at Elim for “lax security protocols” even once he was back inside. He took a few seconds to catch his breath once the shocks stopped.</p><p> </p><p>“He gave you a buzzer?” Kelas asked in a bored tone, not even looking up from his desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow…” Julian responded, rubbing at his arm. It still felt all tingly. The buzzer was slightly warm to the touch.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Kelas sighed. “In a few days, he’ll get bored of not being able to summon you whenever he wants. That’s what happened to me, at least.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was that Elim Garak on the bridge?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Kelas looked surprised. “You know him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know his double,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“Elim’s a good man,” Kelas shrugged, turning back to his work. “I met him while I was treating him for ulcartic virus. He almost didn’t make it. It’s almost always a fatal disease, but he held on long enough to recover.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I remember Quark saying something about that,” Julian frowned, trying to remember.</p><p> </p><p>“After that, we tried to return to Cardassia, but the Terran Rebellion got us, and, well,” Kelas gestured vaguely at the general situation on Bashir’s ship.</p><p> </p><p>“He looked so…so…” Julian couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say. All he knew was that if <em>his </em>Garak ever looked like that, Julian would do everything in his power to save him.</p><p> </p><p>“Bashir needs an anger outlet, and Elim’s usually closer to him than me,” Kelas shuddered. “I wish there was something we could do, but—“</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I promise you—there <em>is </em>something we can do,” Julian glared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ulcartic virus is a reference to the DS9 episode “The Emperor’s New Cloak,” in which Mirror Elim Garak is left for dead after a hypospray injection of ulcartic virus.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ambassador’s Office, Cardassia Prime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Parmak,” Garak said, resolutely refusing to look at him. “This trip is entirely professional in nature. I already told you, I need to visit Federation headquarters to discuss increasing the aid resources they’ve been providing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Garak,” Kelas Parmak shook his head. “Who do you think you’re fooling?”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope I’m at least fooling Letell,” Garak said, finally turning to face Parmak. “He’ll have my hide for missing the infrastructure review board meeting tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to miss it,” Parmak pointed out. “Have you ever considered that you may be expending a lot of effort for very little reward?”</p><p> </p><p>“Such is the way of my unforgiving life,” Garak deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious,” Parmak said. “What would our people think if they knew you were dropping your duties to look for a <em>Human?”</em></p><p> </p><p>“They’d think that exile made me soft and weak, and I’d be removed from office,” Garak shrugged. “I’d certainly have more time to take up gardening, again.”</p><p> </p><p>“You never take anything seriously anymore,” Parmak sighed. “You’ll get yourself hurt. You wouldn’t happen to need a doctor to travel with you, would you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t justify taking you <em>and </em>hold onto my cover,” Garak winced apologetically.</p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough.” Parmak said. “How long will you be away?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure,” Garak said. “I’ve requisitioned the Desert Bloom, and supplies to last me a week. That’s already three times what I’d need for a round trip to Federation headquarters, so I can’t take much more without raising suspicion.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Desert Bloom is a good ship,” Parmak nodded. “Do you remember the story that gives it its name?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t say that I do,” Garak raised an eyebrow. “Please, enlighten me.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is a tale of a man who lived on the edge of the desert,” Parmak said. “His skin was tough, he was strong from the sun, and he was loved and needed by his community. He only had one problem in life: he was desperate to see a rare desert bloom, a flower that grows only for one year every millennium. Every day, when he was done working, he traveled into the desert, as far as he could, before the cold made him turn back home. After weeks of fruitless searching, he stopped working to spend more time looking for the bloom. Still finding nothing, he stopped coming home, voyaging deeper into the desert every day in search of the flower.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did he find it?” Garak asked.</p><p> </p><p>“He perished in the desert,” Parmak said. “A thousand years later, the flowers grew over where he lay, the only marker of his final resting place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Our people don’t have many happy stories, do we,” Garak sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“The moral of the Desert Bloom is that one shouldn’t set impossible goals,” Parmak said. “The only certain path to happiness is to dedicate oneself to Cardassia, to the exclusion of all else. If the man had only stayed home and continued to work, he could have had a wife, a family, a whole life.”</p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t asking me to settle down and find a wife, are you?” Garak asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m saying, after all those years away from Cardassia, you’re finally home,” Parmak said, taking Garak’s hand. “Why are you searching for a desert bloom, when Cardassia needs you here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Parmak, people may very well say that exile has made me soft, but I don’t care.” Garak carefully removed his hand from Parmak’s. “While I was away, I learned that there is more to life than unfailing dedication to the state. I am not looking for anonexistent desert bloom, I am going to find my friend, one of the few who looked out for me without asking anything in return. He <em>does </em>exist, and I will find him, and when I’m done, I will come home.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t stop you from trying,” Parmak said.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t,” Garak said. “You should go home, Parmak. I have a few more things to get done before I head out.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you can’t find your flower, remember to come home<em> before</em> you die trying,” Parmak said. He and Garak nodded at each other, and Parmak left the office.</p><p> </p><p>Garak sat at his desk, staring listlessly down at his paperwork. Maybe Parmak was right. Garak had spent so long away from Cardassia, and now he was going to willingly consign himself to the cold of space again? For a <em>Human? </em>Cardassia was always warm, Cardassia always smelled sweet and clean, and Cardassia was home. Garak was needed here.</p><p> </p><p>No. Garak knew, with every fiber of his being, that it was <em>Julian </em>who needed him right now. Julian had scoured the universe, even talked to <em>Tain </em>just to save Garak, and Garak could do no less now. He scribbled a note to Letell and left it pinned to his computer: “Ambassadorial duties to take care of in the Federation. Back soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Garak grabbed his coat, turned out his office light, and started walking towards the spaceport. His Desert Bloom was waiting for him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Feeling all right?” Kelas looked over at Julian with concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Julian shrugged. “It’s just itchy.” He’d been scratching at the buzzer around his upper arm all morning, and when he picked at it too much, it shocked him again. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean curing the Captain?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes,” Julian said awkwardly, “but equally as important, we’ve got to figure out how to get out of this. You, me, and Elim—we’ve all got to get out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you propose we do that?” Kelas raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like we can sneak into an escape pod without the Captain noticing and stopping us. And <em>you </em>can’t sneak anywhere until we get that buzzer off of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” Julian grit his teeth. “Which is why I’ve been thinking…that we don’t need to escape, exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve lost me,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we could…” Julian looked around, worried for a moment that Bashir might somehow overhear. He shook it off. He was starting to get just as paranoid as Kelas. He leaned closer, and said his next words very quietly: “We could mutiny. We could take the ship, seal Bashir in one of the crew quarters until we got to a Starbase, and turn him over to the authorities.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take the ship?” Kelas gasped. “We’d never make it! He’d kill us the second he thought we were <em>considering </em>that!”</p><p> </p><p>“Obviously we wouldn’t <em>tell him </em>we were planning that,” Julian frowned. “I can’t do it without you, Kelas. You know him, and the ship, better than I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas paused for a long time, considering. “…It would need to be a foolproof plan,” Kelas finally said.</p><p> </p><p>“We can come up with something, I <em>know </em>we can,” Julian smiled, and clapped Kelas on the back. Kelas flinched away instinctively, then relaxed just slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s…strange, working with you like this,” Kelas said. “You look so much like him.”</p><p> </p><p>“In another few days I’ll have his beard, too,” Julian sighed and rubbed at the stubble starting to grow on his face.</p><p> </p><p>They were interrupted by a soft beeping sound from the main medical computer. Julian walked over to it and called up the results. After a few minutes reading page after page of figures, he groaned and put his head down on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“More bad news?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish,” Julian sighed. “This is the third time we’ve tested his tricorder readings, and they’re coming up completely normal. If it was bad news, at least we’d have <em>some </em>idea of what we’re dealing with. Ugh!” Julian slammed his fist on the controls. The data on the computer fizzed and glitched out for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never been able to identify the problem,” Kelas said. “I always assumed it was because the Captain is Terran, and I trained in Cardassian medicine, but if even <em>you </em>can’t find anything wrong—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll find it,” Julian said tightly. “Whatever subtle difference between our genes is breaking him down, I’ve got to figure it out. If I could just get at the transporter logs, we’d have a better shot at this. There would be some noticeable difference in his genetic code, and transporter systems are <em>designed </em>to flag changes like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, with that buzzer on you, you’re trapped here,” Kelas reminded him. “Maybe if I took a comm link to the engine room, you could talk me through the process of collecting the data?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Julian sat up. “I’ve got an idea!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank goodness, because we could really use a good idea,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“I said ‘I’ve got an idea,’ I didn’t say it was a <em>good </em>one,” Julian admitted. “It’s…kind of a <em>bad </em>idea actually, but I think it could work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, dear,” Kelas winced. “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes later, Julian jammed as much scrap fabric as he could between the buzzer and his arm. It was a tight fit, but it made the shocks much easier to handle. Kelas wished him luck, and Julian slipped quietly out of the medbay. The whole plan depended on the assumption that Bashir was currently asleep. Neither Kelas nor Julian’s advanced hearing had heard the Captain’s signature stomping in a little while, so they felt pretty safe. Julian crept down the hall towards the engine room, pausing every so often to brace himself against a particularly bad shock from the buzzer. There was no one on the bridge except for Elim, and as desperate as Julian was to talk to him, he had to stick to the plan. If Bashir wasn’t sleeping in his room, he was running around the hallways, ready to sneak up on a person and yell at them. It would be better if Julian wasn’t out in the open if that was the case. Julian made it to the engine room successfully, and went directly to the Mirror technology transporter device. He loaded the data he needed onto a PADD, breathed a sigh of relief. His part was done. Now it was all up to Kelas. Julian made an effort to pretend to look busy, fiddling randomly with the controls on the transporter.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have to wait long before he heard Bashir’s stomping and yelling down the hall towards the engine room. Julian smiled, and pushed a few more buttons on the transporter. The door <em>swooshed </em>open, and a seething mad Bashir (followed by Kelas) stormed in.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you stupid?” Bashir yelled. He slapped Julian across the face, and Julian had tried to brace for the impact but he was still knocked to the floor. “I told you to stay out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to download the data I need to diagnose you,” Julian said, knowing full-well that Bashir wouldn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>“Kelas, you’re a good man,” Bashir clapped Kelas on the back. Julian couldn’t help but notice how Kelas winced at the contact. “Fetch Elim, tell him to join us.” Kelas gave Julian an apologetic look before he hurried out of the engine room.</p><p> </p><p>“Try and escape <em>my </em>ship,” Bashir grumbled to himself as he pulled Julian up off the floor. “I’ll <em>show </em>you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m shaking, I really am,” Julian said sarcastically.</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up!” Bashir shoved Julian out of the engine room and forced him towards the crew quarters. Bashir shoved Julian in an empty room and closed the door, leaving him in darkness. It only took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. It looked like an ordinary bedroom, but it wasn’t much lived-in. There were a few storage cylinders that Julian was pretty sure belonged in the engine room, if it wasn’t already too cluttered in there for anything else.</p><p> </p><p>There was muffled talking on the other side of the door, then it opened. Lit from behind by the corridor light, Elim stepped into the room with Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“And make him scream!” Bashir yelled, obviously finishing up a rousing inspirational speech.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we dampen the sound, then, sir?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I’m going back to sleep,” Bashir grumbled. The door swooshed closed, leaving Julian and Elim alone in the dark together.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>There was nothing but silence from Elim.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Julian,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>know </em>who you are,” Elim hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“Just figured I’d be polite,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“Please stop talking,” Elim said, clicking on the light. He didn’t sound angry, or annoyed, just…cautious. He rubbed at his nose ridges with one hand. “The Captain’s right, you aren’t very smart.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t even know me,” Julian smiled awkwardly as his eyes readjusted to the light. Elim looked terrible up close. Julian wanted to drag him into the medbay and stick a dermal regenerator on him, watch the patch of scales grow back until his eyebrow ridge was back to normal.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” Elim asked. He sat down on the floor, across from Julian. “You’ve got a buzzer, and you left sick bay anyway. You went back to the engine room—are <em>you </em>breaking down, just like the Captain?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think so,” Julian shrugged. “As for the buzzer…it’s on the lowest setting, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Elim flushed green. “It’s probably…you’re enhanced, so you probably just can’t tell.”</p><p> </p><p>“It still hurts like a motherfucker, though,” Julian grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“It does?” Elim looked up at Julian, worried. “I mean, it does,” Elim coughed, and spoke in a deeper voice. He looked nervously back at the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, the sound dampener’s supposed to be on,” Julian said. “Because Bashir’s trying to sleep, and I’m supposed to be screaming. He can’t hear anything. If you’re really worried he’ll overhear, you could delete the security footage from the—“</p><p> </p><p>“Shh!” Elim suddenly lunged across the room and put his hand over Julian’s mouth, pinning him to the floor. Eli breathed heavily with fear, eyes locked on the door. Julian looked up at him. He really did look like Garak. But Garak had people who cared about him, and Elim clearly didn’t. Julian’s Garak was self-reliant and cautious, but this Elim was paranoid and desperately alone. If Garak didn’t have me, Julian thought, would he have turned out like this?</p><p> </p><p>Elim suddenly looked down, realized what he was doing, and scrambled away from Julian like he’d been burned.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you afraid of me?” Julian asked, hardly believing it.</p><p> </p><p>“Try to understand the position I’m in,” Elim said tightly, glaring at Julian. “I’m supposed to torture you. If I do, the Captain gets mad at me, because if I can hurt you, I can hurt him, and I’m not supposed to know how to do that. But if I don’t torture you, he gets mad at me for disobeying direct orders.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Julian nodded, and sat back up. “I see the problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need your <em>pity,</em>” Elim hissed. “Stop looking at me like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Like you want to <em>fix </em>me,” Elim scowled. “I can’t stand it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…I’m…I’m sorry,” Julian flushed, looking away. He hadn’t realized he was doing it. But he <em>did </em>want to fix him. Again, the image of Elim in a clean medical bay popped into Julian’s head, Elim with a soft blanket and a dermal regenerator, and maybe a heat lamp too.</p><p> </p><p>Elim stared at Julian, and Julian stared back.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you, um, ever read <em>The Never-ending Sacrifice</em>?” Julian coughed. Garak loved that book. Julian hadn’t been a fan, but at least it would be something to talk about.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Elim glared.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Julian said, rubbing the back of his neck. So much for that idea. “It’s, um. It’s good.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not scared of me?” Elim asked.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Julian admitted.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m holding an agonizer,” Elim held it up. “And I’m the one who controls the buzzer, so…you <em>should </em>be scared of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m not,” Julian shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re enhanced,” Elim let out a sad <em>whoosh </em>of breath. He put down the agonizer and pulled his knees up to his chest. “You’re stronger, you’re faster, I’d never have a chance in a fight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I wouldn’t want to fight you,” Julian said. He reached out his hand, intending to pat Elim’s shoulder, but Elim flinched away so violently that Julian hesitated and pulled back. “That’s not the reason I’m not scared.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what is it?” Elim angrily spat out the words.</p><p> </p><p>“My buzzer is on the lowest setting. You’ve got an agonizer, but you’re not using it on me,” Julian said. He shivered. “I don’t really know what an ‘agonizer’ is, but I’m grateful you’re not demonstrating.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elim grumbled. “I’m not—“</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t hurt me,” Julian shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>There was a long silence. When Elim looked up at Julian again, his eyes were watering. “…I don’t <em>want </em>to hurt you,” Elim shivered. “I don’t know why…I just don’t. But I have to. What choice do I have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Julian considered this. “<em>My </em>Garak told me about an interrogation he did once. He said, the guy was so sensitive, all he had to do was stare at him. He didn’t even touch him.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s…it?” Elim asked, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“You could tell Bashir I was naive and sensitive, and all you had to do was stare at me and I started crying,” Julian smiled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Elim snorted. “You <em>are </em>naive and sensitive though. You really think the only reason I’m not agonizing you is ‘the goodness of my heart,’ or some sappy nonsense like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what <em>is </em>the reason?” Julian asked. “Do you just like me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I <em>don’t,” </em>Elim shoved Julian away from him, but Julian could still tell he was blushing bright green. “Fine. So I won’t torture you, we both go back to our lives, and no one has to know. Just don’t put me in this position again.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian returned to the medbay. Kelas was waiting for him. “Did you get the data?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>Julian held up the PADD. “And I talked to Elim, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Kelas asked. “Do you think he’s up to it? Would he join us if we started a mutiny?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure,” Julian frowned. He connected the PADD to the computer and waited for the data to load. “If we tried to take the ship, I don’t think he’d stop us, but I’m not sure he’d help, either. But at least he’d stay out of our way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Elim’s too weak to even <em>think </em>about standing up to Bashir,” Kelas scowled. “The only reason he didn’t torture you is because he’s scared of you, just like he’s scared of the Captain.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not true!” Julian turned to face Kelas. “There’s still something good in him, I know there is. He didn’t hurt me because he didn’t <em>want</em> to. It’s not that he’s weak, he’s just…he’s had a hard time, that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you say so,” Kelas shrugged. “Who am I to upset your baseless positivity about the universe?”</p><p> </p><p>“Believing the best in people isn’t basless,” Julian said. “I’ll prove it to you. <em>Elim </em>will prove to you that I’m right.” The computer station beeped. “Finally!” Julian sighed. “This is step one. Figure out what’s wrong with Bashir, take the ship, <em>cure </em>Bashir, save the day, save everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bold plan,” Kelas raised an eyebrow. “Concise. Not very descriptive, I notice…”</p><p> </p><p>Julian read the computer readout. He scrolled through the transporter patterns manually, double checking the results. He read the computer’s result again.</p><p> </p><p>“So what’s wrong with the Captain?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing is wrong with him,” Julian said quietly. “His genetic code…it’s stable. He’s completely fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine’ is a strong word,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean,” Julian shook his head. “I mean there’s no genetic instability, there’s nothing <em>physically </em>wrong with him.” He put his head down on the desk and groaned. “Which means I have absolutely <em>no </em>chance at curing him.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Starfleet Headquarters, Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The Admiral regrets to inform you that he’s currently busy with another task, Ambassador. He won’t be able to meet today.” The cadet in the freshly-pressed Starfleet uniform delivered the message before he really got a good look at Garak.</p><p> </p><p>Garak smiled, showing off a few of his pointed teeth. “That’s all right. But I must ask…are you quite sure about that?”</p><p> </p><p>The cadet gulped nervously. “I’ll, uh, I’ll double check, just to make sure.” He scampered back into the recesses of Admiral Corvin Slayton’s office.</p><p> </p><p>Garak sighed. Humans had a reputation as one of the softer species, without the strict order of the Romulans, the battle-readiness of the Klingons, or the subtlety of the Cardassians. It was a reputation, Garak had learned, that was completely unearned—just because the Humans had swept some of their less desirable traits out of sight, did not mean those traits had ceased to exist. Garak had ceased underestimating the Federation as soon as he discovered Section 31, but he had yet to plumb the depths of suffering that were to be undergone in Human bureaucracy.</p><p> </p><p>He’d spent far too much time already at Starfleet Headquarters, shuffled from one office to another, with papers that needed to be signed in triplicate and no single authority who could bypass it all. It was terribly inefficient, and Garak was starting to worry it had been designed that way. However, all of his troubles were (theoretically) about to be behind him. This meeting with the Admiral was the last step to organizing a proper search party, and once it was set in motion, Garak could stop gallivanting about the galaxy, return to Cardassia, and focus on his <em>actual </em>work.</p><p> </p><p>The cadet returned. “The Admiral will see you now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought he might,” Garak grinned and entered the office.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Ambassador Garak, how good to meet you!” Admiral Slayton beamed widely as Garak entered the office.</p><p> </p><p>“If only under less unfortunate circumstances,” Garak replied, shaking Slayton’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, have a seat,” the Admiral directed Garak towards a chair.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll stand, thank you,” Garak said. “This should only take a little while, I’m sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“What seems to be the problem?” Slayton sat back down behind his desk. “My assistant tells me you’re here about a shuttle accident?”</p><p> </p><p>“In fact, I am,” Garak said. “I had a friend aboard a certain shuttle reported destroyed in Federation space.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, let me see,” Slayton opened up his computer.</p><p> </p><p>“Allow me,” Garak placed his PADD on the desk and slid it over to the Admiral. “I don’t mean to bore you with details, but you’ll find I have done my research.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm…” Slayton squinted at the PADD.</p><p> </p><p>“After a cargo vessel found a debris field spanning shuttle route 87754, a nearby Starfleet science operation scanned the debris. Its mass was consistent with the destruction of a class three shuttle missing its escape pods,” Garak said.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well, shuttle accidents are all-too-common, unfortunately,” Slayton huffed. “We may enjoy easy travel across it these days, but space is still a cruel, unforgiving mistress.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t she, now?” Garak bared his teeth and was pleased at Slayton’s slight wince in response. “You’ll note in that report that the entire complement of escape pods were found, but not all the crew.”</p><p> </p><p>“It says here…” Slayton squinted. “It says here that the shuttle was lost due to crew hysteria and disorientation in an unstable nebula they passed through.”</p><p> </p><p>“So it does,” Garak said tightly. “On the other hand, recovered crew and passengers claim that they were attacked by a foreign ship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Disorientation and hysteria,” Slayton tapped the PADD. “They must have imagined it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then explain the loss of passenger Julian Bashir,” Garak slammed his fist on the desk and leaned over it, making eye contact with the Admiral. “Every single crew member and passenger made it to an escape pod except for Doctor Julian Bashir, and the crew <em>imagined </em>an attack? Doctor Julian Bashir, Dominion War Hero, who pioneered medical techniques your brightest minds only <em>dream </em>of, was the <em>only </em>passenger to <em>fail to survive </em>a '<em>normal’ space accident, </em>and you see <em>nothing</em> suspicious about that?”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you suggesting happened?” Slayton raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m suggesting nothing,” Garak grit his teeth. “It is my opinion that Starfleet has not done its due diligence recovering a lost officer. I am merely here to ensure that this oversight is corrected.”</p><p> </p><p>“You flew all the way to Earth for this?” Slayton gave Garak a look. “Because your close, <em>personal</em> friend has gone missing?”</p><p> </p><p>“So I have,” Garak crossed his arms. “Is that a problem? Has Starfleet changed its policies on officer search-and-rescue?”</p><p> </p><p>“Julian Bashir,” Slayton frowned. “I know that name. One moment.” He clicked his computer keys while Garak stood and waited. “Ah! Here it is. He’s genetically enhanced, he’s not technically a Starfleet officer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Garak coughed. “Julian’s status was confirmed in a court of law—“</p><p> </p><p>“I have it right here,” Slayton said, running his finger along the screen as he read. “Though Lieutenant Bashir will maintain his medical license, rank, and posting at Deep Space Nine, his genetically enhanced status precludes him from maintaining Federation citizenship.’ It goes on, but you’ll find—“</p><p> </p><p>“What does <em>that </em>mean?” Garak spluttered in a manner completely undignified for an ambassador.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me check something…ah. Local Starfleet vessels have been alerted to scan for human life signs on any habitable planets they come across, I have the order right here.” Slayton smiled and stood up, clearly assuming the meeting was over. “I assure you, every effort is being made to find him. We’ll let you know if anything turns up.”</p><p> </p><p>Garak entertained a brief fantasy of leaping over the desk and ripping out Slayton’s throat, but years of spying had taught him to smile politely instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Why thank you, Admiral,” Garak smiled. “I learn something new every time I visit the Federation, I really do.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what’s that?” Slayton asked, all confidence.</p><p> </p><p>“The Federation simply has different standards for its people—some are more equal than others, is that right?” Garak smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“Well…not exactly—“ Slayton deflated.</p><p> </p><p>“I shall communicate how <em>helpful </em>everyone here has been when I return home,” Garak smiled cheerfully. “Of course, I could never support a Cardassian alliance with the Federation, not now that I understand we’d have no guarantee of citizenship. It’s quite all right, Admiral, every society has its lower classes. Cardassia simply won’t be joining yours. I’d better get going.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Slayton fumbled. “That wasn’t what I—perhaps you should sit down, and we could continue this conversation more thoroughly.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid I have other engagements today, Admiral,” Garak frowned. “But I assure you, have no qualms about how this meeting has gone. And neither shall I—Cardassia has always been self-reliant, and so it shall remain. I shall pass your name along fondly to my peers!” Garak waved and walked towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Ambassador,” Slayton rushed to Garak’s side. “Perhaps I misspoke. You’re entirely right, we haven’t finished our search for Doctor Bashir yet. You thought we had given up? I must not have communicated properly—“</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, my mistake, Admiral,” Garak smiled and rested one of his hands against Slayton’s cheek. He resisted the urge to flex his claws. “You <em>will </em>let me know when you find him, won’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“At once,” Clayton wheezed. “And, Ambassador—you’ll mention to your government that I am a friend to Cardassia, ready to defend its every need, however small? I would be an excellent sponsor, should your people decide to pursue Federation membership.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why, it hadn’t even occurred to me!” Garak feigned surprise. The Admiral’s response had been all too predictable. “I certainly shall. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”</p><p> </p><p>Garak waltzed smoothly out of the Admiral’s office, barely-contained anger bubbling beneath the surface of his cool facade.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I help you with anything else, sir?” the cadet pushed in front of Garak, blocking his path. Garak hissed at him, and he squeaked and scurried out of the way, just like a little desert regnar.</p><p> </p><p>Garak knew Admiral Slayton’s smile all too well. He’d seen it so many times before, on so many faces, in so many locales all over the quadrant. Nothing much more was going to be done to search for Julian. He was genetically enhanced, and Starfleet was secretly counting itself lucky that they’d washed their hands of him so cleanly. Garak wanted to scream. What he did instead was return immediately to the space dock and board the Desert Bloom.</p><p> </p><p>His duties on Cardassia would have to wait a little bit longer. If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself. Garak would bring Julian home himself, even if he had to burn half the galaxy to the ground to do it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Regnar: Desert Regnars are a small, blind reptilian species found in the Mekar Wilderness of Cardassia</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We have to tell him, right?” Julian paced around the medbay, careful not to get too close to the exit and set off the buzzer.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we should <em>under no circumstances </em>tell him there’s no cure,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t technically <em>know </em>there’s not a cure,” Julian pointed out. “Maybe it’s something other than a genetic instability, and if we could just identify it—“</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” Kelas groaned. “The Captain is convinced his current problems are because of the experimentation he suffered as a child. He dragged me, Elim, and this entire ship into another <em>universe </em>trying to <em>fix </em>that genetic instability. Not to mention, he kidnapped you, and he’s holding you captive on the basis of that theory. What do you think he’s going to do if you tell him he’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think he might…bravely accept that he needs to explore psychological treatment with a good therapist,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Kelas raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know,” Julian groaned. He twisted his hands in his hair, tugging on the ends, trying to focus. “He won’t take it well. But I’m a doctor, and he’s my patient…I can’t <em>not </em>tell him, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what ‘medical ethics’ looks like in this universe, but from where I’m from, we have a saying about what to do in this kind of situation,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? What is it?” Julian looked up.</p><p> </p><p>“If the patient is holding a knife, diagnosis him from further away,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>Julian groaned. “See, I <em>know</em> you’re probably right, but…I can’t <em>not </em>tell him, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think that we should take some time to consider the best way to break the news to him,” Kelas said. “The best way is, of course, <em>after </em>we mutiny and he doesn’t have any power over us anymore. Because he <em>will </em>kill us all if you tell him he’s got no genetic dysfunction, no instability, and no cure forthcoming. Julian, look at me.” He grabbed Julian by the shoulders, stopping him from pacing. “Julian, he won’t just kill you. Think of me. Think of <em>Elim. </em>For our sake, <em>please </em>do not tell him.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” Julian sighed. “For Elim…I mean, for you. For us. All of us,” Julian blushed awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“So. You have a crush on Elim?” Kelas crossed his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“What? No way,” Julian frowned.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you have a crush on <em>your </em>Elim, and seeing his double all helpless and sad and abused made you weak in the knees,” Kelas shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“I do—I do <em>not,</em>” Julian spluttered. “Garak is my <em>friend, </em>I would <em>never—</em>“</p><p> </p><p>“And of course, you know that my Elim <em>isn’t</em> your Garak, so it would never work out,” Kelas interrupted him.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Julian whined.</p><p> </p><p>“Julian, <em>tell me </em>you know that,” Kelas glared firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“I know it would never work out,” Julian sighed. “And I <em>know </em>he’s not my Garak. But in some ways…they’re so similar, you know? Is it really a problem if I feel bad for him? If I want to help him out?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a problem at all,” Kelas said. “Until you <em>make it one.” </em>Kelas scowled. “Do <em>not </em>make it one. Because if you do, <em>we will all die.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know!” Julian held up his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t last a <em>day </em>in my universe,” Kelas grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“I would!” Julian protested. “I have! One time, I—“</p><p> </p><p>They were interrupted by the <em>swoosh </em>of the opening medbay door. Neither of them had heard the stomping of approaching footsteps. They both froze in their tracks.</p><p> </p><p>In the doorway stood Elim, quiet as a shadow. He held a triangular device in one hand. “Captain wants you on the bridge,” Elim said quietly. He walked up to Julian and held the triangle against the buzzer. It blinked red a few times, then it hummed softly and went dark. “Both of you,” Elim said.</p><p> </p><p>Julian and Kelas looked at each other, and followed Elim to the bridge. Julian couldn’t relax, constantly expecting the buzzer to reactivate and shock him again.</p><p> </p><p>They made it to the bridge, when Bashir stood angrily contemplating the view screen. He looked up when they entered. “Hey! Other-universe me. Identify that ship!”</p><p> </p><p>Julian looked, but it was too hard to make out. “Can you magnify it at all?”</p><p> </p><p>“Elim! Get back to your <em>goddamned station,</em>” Bashir growled.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir,” Elim whimpered, and rushed back to navigation. After a few moments, the image of the ship enlarged, showing off its purple, ridged design.</p><p> </p><p>“How peculiar,” Kelas frowned. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not Klingon, it’s not Romulan…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Dominion,” Julian gasped, recognizing it immediately. “Can we cloak?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, I’m so fancy, I have access to <em>cloaking devices,</em>” Bashir said in a mocking, high-pitched tone. He rolled his eyes. “We’ll fight our way out. Are they dangerous?”</p><p> </p><p>“They decimated the quadrant up until they lost the war,” Julian said. “I haven’t seen one of their ships in Federation space in ages. …<em>Are </em>we in Federation space?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kelas, take over navigation. Elim, weapons. Charge <em>everything</em>,” Bashir scowled. “We don’t want anyone in this universe knowing who or where we are. Destroy this ship just as thoroughly as the shuttle. And <em>this </em>time, get the escape pods too, you <em>imbecile!” </em>Bashir screeched at Elim, who was quietly focused on charging the phaser banks.</p><p> </p><p>“What do I do?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” Bashir said. “You identified the ship, that’s all I needed from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Julian said, slightly disappointed. Kelas returned the view screen to normal and they watched the Dominion ship drift slowly closer.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir? Do I fire on them?” Elim asked.</p><p> </p><p>There was a soft beeping at Kelas’s station. “We’re being hailed,” Kelas announced.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, put it onscreen,” Bashir crossed his arms. There was a pulse of static over the viewscreen, then they were looking at the bridge of the Dominion ship.</p><p> </p><p>“Weyoun,” Julian glared. “How are <em>you </em>still alive?”</p><p> </p><p>“My predecessors are not. Weyoun 11, at your service,” Weyoun smiled condescendingly. “But I suppose I should ask the same of you. Weren’t you in one of our prison camps?”</p><p> </p><p>“Way-oon,” Bashir felt it out. “Wayoon. Weyoun. What are <em>you </em>supposed to be?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am a Vorta. I serve the Founders,” Weyoun bowed slightly. “You may not have heard of me, but the Founders have heard of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah? And what do they care about <em>me?</em>” Bashir laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“You are in possession of technology that we would very much like to acquire,” Weyoun said. “A device to allow you to transport between universes? That is of great interest to the Founders. With something like that, one could do almost anything. In fact, I can think of numerous ways it might be useful in…shall we say ‘correcting’ recent events,” Weyoun smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“You just want to start the war again!” Julian pointed accusingly at the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“And with your technology, Captain, I’m certain the outcome would be more satisfactory this time,” Weyoun said, completing ignoring Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“If you want our technology, you’re going to have to <em>take it,” </em>Bashir glared.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, please, Captain, please,” Weyoun held up his hands. “I come alone, unarmed. The Dominion doesn’t wish to attack you, we wish to <em>ally</em> ourselves with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think I was born yesterday? What could you possibly offer me to form an alliance with a complete stranger?” Bashir snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Anything you could possibly desire,” Weyoun spread his hands wide. “I assure you, the Founder’s resources are vast. What would you ask for from the gods?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything, huh?” Bashir considered this. “The only thing I need is pretty specific. I doubt you have it.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what might that be?” Weyoun asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a genetic instability,” Bashir said. “That’s why I’m lugging <em>this </em>idiot around, because he’s the only one who can come up with a cure.” He pointed a thumb at Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“A genetic instability, you say?” Weyoun raised his eyebrows excitedly. “The Founders are <em>masters</em> of genetic manipulation, Captain. Why, I’m only standing before you due to the wonders they are able to manifest. Whatever ails you, I am entirely certain the Dominion is equipped to handle it. We have <em>far </em>greater resources than one measly Human doctor, no offense, of course,” Weyoun smiled evilly at Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” Bashir looked Julian up and down. “That <em>is </em>a tempting offer. Okay. I’ll give it a shot. You cure me, you can <em>have </em>my technology.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait!” Julian blurted out. “You can’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve read the history books. Your universe messed with <em>mine </em>first. If I start a war here, that’s just payback for what your Captain Kirk did to the Terran Empire,” Bashir said.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean…” Julian looked at Kelas, who was frantically trying to shake his head “no” without Bashir noticing. Julian took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and decided he had no choice. “They won’t be able to cure you. I’ve been running tests, and whatever’s wrong with you <em>isn’t </em>genetic.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Bashir froze.</p><p> </p><p>“You have no genetic instability,” Julian said. “It’s something else. I’m working on figuring it out, but—“</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Bashir shook his head. “You’re lying.”</p><p> </p><p>“I promise,” Julian said desperately, “I—“</p><p> </p><p>“You’re <em>lying!” </em>Bashir yelled, and Julian instinctively took a step back. Bashir took a deep breath, and turned back to the screen. “He’s lying, because he doesn’t want me to make a deal with you. But those are my terms: cure me, and the technology is yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Weyoun said. “You would understand if we’d appreciate a demonstration of its abilities before we agree?”</p><p> </p><p>“What did you have in mind?” Bashir asked.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Julian said. “You have to listen to me!” Kelas jumped out of his seat and held Julian back. “Let me go!” Julian squirmed. “Bashir, they can’t cure you! Don’t—“</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll send along the coordinates and tactical data of a Starfleet ship,” Weyoun said. “Destroy it, and our genetic modification is at your disposal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bashir, it won’t do any good,” Julian squirmed in Kelas’s grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop,” Kelas hissed in his ear. “Now isn’t the time! He won’t listen!”</p><p> </p><p>“Destroy one ship?” Bashir laughed. “For a cure, I’d destroy the whole quadrant. You’ve got a deal, Weyoun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent,” Weyoun smiled. “A pleasure meeting you, Captain. We’re sending along the data now.”</p><p> </p><p>Weyoun’s image disappeared from the viewscreen. “Receiving,” Elim said. “It’s…the USS Aventine, Vesta-class.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Aventine?” Julian stopped struggling. “But…that’s Ezri’s ship.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t <em>want </em>to cure me!” Bashir stood in front of Julian, staring him right in the face. “You’ve been stalling this whole time. I’m your double, and you were just going to let me die?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian looked at Elim, hunched over and sad at the weapons control station. Julian looked at Kelas, who was frantically begging him with his eyes not to keep talking.</p><p> </p><p>“I was…I <em>was</em> working on the cure,” Julian said. “I was almost done with it, but I lied just now because I didn’t want you to join the Dominion,” Julian lied.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Bashir shrugged. “Keep going—if you can cure me before we get to the Aventine, I won’t destroy it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I might need more time,” Julian said desperately. “I’ve been working as hard as I can, but…gene modification, it’s tricky, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Elim, how long until we reach the coordinates?” Bashir asked.</p><p> </p><p>“A few days, sir,” Elim said.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a few days, then,” Bashir said. “Thank you Kelas, you can let him go now.”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas released Julian’s arms. “I’ll escort him back to the medbay, and make sure he gets back to work,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Bashir said. “Elim! Get back to nav, what are you still doing at weapons?”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas had to drag Julian off the bridge. Once they were out of earshot, Kelas released him and made strangling motions with his hands. “What is wrong with you?!? Were you not listening when I told you he’d <em>kill us all?!?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t let him join the Dominion for a cure that doesn’t even exist!” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>know</em> it doesn’t exist!” Kelas hissed. “Look, if you don’t at least <em>pretend </em>to play along with the Captain, we’ll never succeed in taking over the ship! Keep it together, okay? We need to plan, launch, and complete a mutiny <em>before </em>we get close enough to attack the starship, and <em>then </em>you can worry about medical ethics! After we’re <em>safe!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s got to be a way to help everyone,” Julian frowned. “Save the Aventine, cure Bashir, save you and Elim, <em>and </em>survive.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes you can’t do everything!” Kelas said. “Can we just focus on staying alive, for now?”</p><p> </p><p>“For now, yes,” Julian said firmly. “But by the time this is over, I <em>will </em>do it all.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Desert Bloom, near Shuttle Route 87754</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quick note: I updated chapter 7. I realized I'd accidentally written that Julian's buzzer was removed, when I had meant to write that Julian's buzzer was deactivated. The issue is now corrected.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garak had finally arrived at the site of the shuttle wreckage. As soon as he scanned the area, he understood why Starfleet had given up so quickly. The debris was scattered in an even sphere, as if the shuttle had suffered a warp core breach instead of an attack.</p><p> </p><p>Nearby, Garak’s sensors picked up the planet where the escape pods had crashed. Survivors had already been rescued, but maybe there was something useful Garak could learn on the planet’s surface. He maneuvered the Desert Bloom through the debris, scattering it just slightly as his ship glided past. He entered a loose orbit around the planet, and set the ship to scan for Human life signs, though he knew a Starship with better equipment must have already done so.</p><p> </p><p>Where would he go next? Down to the planet’s surface, obviously, to examine the escape pods, but what then? If the crew was to be believed, the shuttle had been attacked, which meant that the attackers/kidnappers could be anywhere by now. Garak would have to call up data on the closest star systems and pick some candidates who might attack a Starfleet shuttle. Usually, when one ship destroyed another in space, the wreckage pointed the opposite direction of the attacker. It was simple enough to follow a trail like that, but here, the debris wasin a frustratingly perfect sphere. Garak could only assume that the shuttle was boarded, and the warp core was set off to destroy the shuttle without revealing who was responsible.</p><p> </p><p>Garak finished his first orbit around the planet and circled back around to the debris field, still annoying spherical. …Which was odd, because Garak had flown through it while he was setting his orbit. Some of the wreckage should have shifted, caught up in the Desert Bloom’s trail, but there was no sign of Garak’s path.</p><p> </p><p>On a hunch, Garak left orbit and headed back to the center to the field. Back when he’d still been a member of the Obsidian Order, he’d devised a way of confusing the wreckage of a destroyed ship using a magnetic field. If one could wrap a deflector field around the wreckage, it was simple enough to magnetize the debris, then charge them to repel each other. It produced a debris field in a perfect sphere. Garak had developed the trick himself, and shared it with no one.</p><p> </p><p>He scanned for magnetic resonance, usually ignored by a ship’s sensors as background noise. Sure enough, there was a slight magnetic field around the debris, locking it into the spherical shape. Somebody was cramping Garak’s style.</p><p> </p><p>The beauty of the magnetic field system was that even if a rescue team could identify its presence, they still had no way of tracking the attacking ship. Garak cursed his own intelligence, and whoever had figured out the same trick he had.</p><p> </p><p>He just had to be smart about this. The attacker was precise enough to only kidnap one person, and knew enough to conceal their tracks afterwards. There was no longer even the slightest doubt in Garak’s mind that Julian had been kidnapped, but what to do about it?</p><p> </p><p>Years with the Obsidian Order had taught Garak to plan carefully and consider every angle before making a move, but Garak didn’t have time. What he did have was a hunch, which the Order never would have sanctioned.</p><p> </p><p>Garak scanned for solar activity. If it had been <em>him </em>who kidnapped Julian, Garak would have set the debris field to magnetize into a sphere, and then followed a solar flare out of the system to cover up his warp trail. According to sensors, there had been recent solar flare activity in this system, and that trail was easy enough to follow. Assuming the attacker was using not just one but <em>two </em>of Garak’s signature tricks.</p><p> </p><p>He had two choices: He could search nearby planets for signs of the attacking ship, or he could follow the solar flare out of the system. Either way, he only had one shot at finding Julian. and no time to try the other option. He’d been a spy for too long to believe Julian was going to live long enough for Garak to explore every nook and cranny of the galaxy. Two options, neither of which were very good, both of which relied on assumptions Garak had no way to verify.</p><p> </p><p>Garak set course to follow the solar flare. He hadn’t spent so much time berating Starfleet for underestimating Julian’s assailant only to fall victim to the same weakness himself. This rescue operation for Julian was turning into a game of chess. Garak could only assume his opponent was just as skilled as himself. (He could only hope his opponent would be no better.)</p><p> </p><p>The Desert Bloom slipped into a rhythm following the solar flare’s path. Garak sighed and set the ship on autopilot. He needed some tea.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is the end,” Kelas groaned. He stood pressed up against the incubator in the medbay, face smushed sideways against it. “I always knew it was coming. I figured it might be like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t the end,” Julian said. He was searching through the cargo containers in the medbay, looking for something to use as scrap paper. He was careful not to bump the buzzer against the metal container—he’d already learned that the resulting minor glitch would give him another shock. Elim had reactivated Julian’s buzzer as soon as he’d left the bridge, and Julian was starting to be severely annoyed by it. The skin under his sleeve was red and itchy with the constant irritation.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, the other-universe stuff was a surprise,” Kelas continued unfazed. “But pretty much as soon as I saw him, I <em>knew </em>the Captain was going to kill me one day.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not going to kill you,” Julian said. “A-ha! Paper!” He triumphantly brandished a scroll of expired medical tape.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the end,” Kelas said again, rubbing his face on the incubator.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s warm,” Kelas sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“You big lizard,” Julian teased. He kept looking through the boxes. Now he needed a pen. “Garak is the same way. When we have lunch together, he always sits on the side with the wall that’s all warm from Quark’s off-brand electrical system. He thinks I don’t notice it.” Julian smiled, lost in the memory for a moment. He’d received a letter from Garak while he was at the conference, and he’d meant to respond to it on the way home, but, well. Here he was.</p><p> </p><p>“This scrap of warmth is the only remaining joy left to me in this life,” Kelas announced sadly.</p><p> </p><p>“No, Kelas, don’t talk like that, come on,” Julian said. “Here, look! I found a pen! Now we’re cooking.”</p><p> </p><p>“We certainly are,” Kelas said. “We’re getting boiled alive, and the Captain’s going to eat us for breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to be honest, Kelas, I don’t understand that metaphor,” Julian said. He spread the materials out over one of the desks.</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Kelas groaned. “Nothing does. And I’m not making room for you on the incubator.”</p><p> </p><p>“All we need,” Julian said, pretending he hadn’t heard, “is a foolproof plan to take the ship, capture Bashir, and get back to Federation space. We don’t even need to worry about the last bit, because if we can stop Bashir before we get to the Aventine, we can just <em>not</em> attack them, and they’ll rescue us!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m never going to see Cardassia again, am I,” Kelas asked quietly. “Even the one in this universe. I’m never going home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Kelas, please,” Julian said. He stood up and rubbed Kelas gently on the back. “I promise you. We’re all going to make it out of this. I’m already starting to put a plan together.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have made so many plans,” Kelas said. “I have thought it over from every angle. There is no escape.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you never had <em>me </em>before,” Julian said, patting Kelas awkwardly. “<em>This </em>time, it’ll be different.”</p><p> </p><p>“Prove it to me,” Kelas looked up at Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s draw out a map of the ship, and all the vents and Jeffries tubes we know of,” Julian said. “You’ll get to the engine room and shut down the warp core, and I’ll deal with Bashir. He won’t have much of an advantage over me; I think we’re pretty evenly matched. The only problem is, I’d need to be <em>sure </em>I could keep him away from the engine room.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought of that, actually,” Kelas perked up just slightly. “From the bridge, I could set up a series of relayed force fields, which would let me travel through the ship without letting anyone get close to me.”</p><p> </p><p>They made notes and pored over hand-drawn maps for what felt like hours. Eventually, Kelas sat back and smiled. “I think we could do it,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>know </em>we can!” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“We just need to figure out a way to get the buzzer off of you,” Kelas frowned. “Otherwise, no matter how much fabric we shove in there, Elim will just turn up the power high enough to stop you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That problem is actually its own potential solution, if you think about it,” Julian said. “If we could get Elim to take<em> off</em> my buzzer, we could—“</p><p> </p><p>“Woah, woah,” Kelas held up a hand. “This plan did <em>not </em>include involving Elim. He’s too a big a risk.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—“ Julian started.</p><p> </p><p>“No buts,” Kelas shook his head. “I love Elim, but he’s not strong enough for this. The Captain’ll take one look at him, and Elim will spill his guts and confess everything. The less he knows, the better. The less we have to deal with him until Bashir is unconscious or tied up somewhere, the better.”</p><p> </p><p>“But look,” Julian pointed at the map. “If Elim helps us, he can control the force fields from the bridge. You’ll be done with the engine much faster. You <em>know</em> we need to take the ship as quickly as we can.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if Elim goes to Bashir and reveals our plan, we won’t <em>need </em>to take the ship, because we’ll both be dead before we make it out of the medbay,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“You said the plan needed to be foolproof,” Julian said. “With Elim, it’s even <em>more </em>airtight. We have a better chance of success if he’s helping us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Julian, Elim is the fool that I am trying to proof against,” Kelas shook his head. “We can’t include him.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to!” Julian said. “How else are we going to get the buzzer off of me?”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas considered this. “I don’t know yet, but—“</p><p> </p><p>Julian didn’t let him finish. “I’m not doing it without Elim. The plan doesn’t work unless he’s on board.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a sentimental idiot, but I don’t have a better idea,” Kelas scowled. “This is our best chance at stopping Bashir…So you’d better make <em>sure</em> Elim doesn’t blow it.”</p><p> </p><p>“All I have to do is arrange to get myself ‘tortured’ again so I can talk to him alone,” Julian smiled. “Then we’re in business.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe I’m going along with this,” Kelas groaned and put his head in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Go tell Bashir I’m trying to escape,” Julian said. “Oh! Or tell him I’m planning to poison him!”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas gave Julian a look, and left the medbay. Julian didn’t have to wait long before he hard yelling and stomping. Julian rolled his eyes. If Bashir stayed this predictable, they’d have no problem taking the ship. Kelas didn’t return, but after a little while, Elim opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Elim!” Julian beamed as soon as he saw him. Then he noticed that Elim was sporting a bruise over one of his forehead ridges. “What happened? Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Elim shrugged. “What happened with <em>you?</em> You’re threatening to destroy Kelas’s research?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No, that was just a trick to get to talk to you,” Julian shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? No, Julian,” Elim groaned. “I <em>told </em>you not to put me in the position again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Julian said. “This might be the last time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, gods,” Elim looked at Julian sadly. “You’re going to die?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No,” Julian said. “I was just…hoping you might…take off my buzzer?” It came out a little bit more tentatively than he’d planned, but he was distracted by that big bruise on Elim’s forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Elim nodded. He sat on one of the medical beds. “I turned it to the lowest setting, but it’s still bothering you, huh? My arm was sore for a <em>month </em>after mine came off. I’m still not sure my scales all grew back right.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not <em>quite </em>that,” Julian said. He scratched idly at the buzzer. “I mean, it hurts, but it’s not so bad if I stay in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Elim sighed. “But I can’t take it off of you. Can’t you just…live with it? For a little longer? I’m sure the Captain will get bored of it soon. He already had me deactivate it once.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t live with it,” Julian said. “Because I need to be able to leave the medbay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Elim asked. “Do you need something? I can bring you whatever it is. Depending on what it is,” Elim winced. “What’s the problem?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian took a deep breath. “Elim, haven’t you ever wanted to get free of all this? Live your own life again, maybe go back to Cardassia, you know. Be independent again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sure,” Elim shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I think about it sometimes. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well…if we were to handle Bashir, maybe you could,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re really going to cure him?” Elim asked, awestruck. “Wow. You <em>are </em>a good doctor…”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, I am going to cure him, but what if he wasn’t the Captain anymore?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“But he’d never step down,” Elim laughed. “Maybe he’d trade us to another Terran, but—“</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, what if we <em>made </em>him not be the Captain anymore?” Julian said. “We could muti—“</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say it,” Elim whispered, cutting him off. “Did Kelas put you up to this?”</p><p> </p><p>“No—I’m putting <em>him </em>up to it, if you must—I mean, we’re working together,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no,” Elim shook his head. “No, no, no, no—“</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll work, I promise,” Julian said. “We’ve planned it all out. With your help, it’s foolproof.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t,” Elim looked at Julian, panic in his eyes. “I can’t, you know that, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Julian asked. “Don’t you want to escape all this?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Elim said, rubbing the bruise on his forehead. “I’m…it’s <em>stable </em>here, anywhere else in the quadrant would be…I mean, it wouldn’t be…I mean, I<em> do</em> want to, but—“</p><p> </p><p>“But nothing!” Julian took a step closer to Elim and put a hand on his knee. “You can do it. We <em>all </em>can. You deserve better than how Bashir treats you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know that,” Elim said quietly, looking away. “I’ve done some…horrible things. At least here, I’m not hurting anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care what you’ve done,” Julian said. “Nobody deserves this.” He reached up a hand towards Elim’s bruise, stroking it gently. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” Elim said tightly. “I…tripped. Fell on my console.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian didn’t believe him, but he knew from experience with Garak not to push the issue any further. “I think we’ve got <em>something </em>like a dermal regenerator around here somewhere,” Julian frowned. He looked around. The medbay had only gotten more disorganized when he’d been looking for paper.</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t be here with us,” Elim shook his head. “You wouldn’t last a day in my universe. You’re all…soft. And…weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not soft and weird,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too nice,” Elim said. “<em>You’re</em> the one who doesn’t deserve how the Captain treats us.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you saying?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>Elim stood up from the bed, and pulled a triangular device off of his belt. He held it up to Julian’s buzzer, and it clicked, coming apart at the seam as it detached from him. It made a soft <em>clink </em>as it hit the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Julian said. “You won’t regret it. Once this is all over, you’ll be back on Cardassia with a sunny rock, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Elim shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I’m not doing this for my own escape, I’m doing this for <em>you.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Um…okay,” Julian said. “But—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t make it a big deal,” Elim glared. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want me to. But…would you promise me something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything,” Julian asked. He meant it. Elim could ask for the stars themselves, and Julian would tractor-beam them into the cargo hold.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t leave me here,” Elim said. “When you leave, I want to go with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I promise,” Julian said. He wouldn’t leave Elim here. He would make that dream of a dermal regenerator a reality; he wouldn’t rest until Elim had every scale back.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Elim said, relaxing just slightly. “I believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian hugged him, barely able to wrap his arms around Elim’s broad shoulders. “You big sap. Why’d you have to say you’re doing it just it for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re the only Terran that’s ever been nice to me,” Elim said. He closed his eyes and leaned into the hug, like he was magnetized to cling to Julian’s side. He rubbed his face against Julian’s cheek, just like a cat. Julian hugged Elim as tight as he could, and tried not to focus on how light and thin he felt. Garak was big and bulky, like a stone statue. Elim was smaller, frailer, like a little porcelain doll that could break at any second.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get you out of here,” Julian said. “I promise.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Desert Bloom, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garak yawned and took another sip of his tea. He pressed a few buttons on his console, and the view screen blinked, and switched to an entirely new image of a mostly-the-same starry background.</p><p> </p><p>Tracking was boring, and it was always Garak’s least favorite part of a mission. It was one thing to sit and wait, hide oneself perfectly, disappear into the background, only to emerge right at the necessary moment to stab, poison, or otherwise murder a target. It was another thing to sit and wait, hide oneself perfectly, disappear into the background…but for no real purpose, only to scrabble at clues and traces to continue the chase.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t afford to lose focus. He’d turned the ship’s temperature up even higher to stay alert, and he was going without sleep for as long a period as he dared, even though he knew he’d have to rest some time—after all, he’d need to be alert when he finally found the ship, too. The Desert Bloom didn’t have very powerful weapons, so he was going to need all of his guile to have a chance at beaming Julian to safety, but once Julian was aboard, the Bloom was fast enough to carry them both to safety, Garak had no doubt of that.</p><p> </p><p>The proximity alert beeped. Garak called up the appropriate sector on the viewscreen. Garak recognized the energy signature—it was a Dominion ship. In Federation Space? For all Garak knew, <em>they </em>were the ones who had kidnapped Julian.</p><p> </p><p>Garak scanned the ship, and was relieved to discover that it was mostly empty, with few weapons. He turned on his thrusters and maneuvered into the ship’s path. He flicked on his hailing signal.</p><p> </p><p>The Dominion ship attempted to dodge left, and Garak shot a warning blast over their bow. He signaled again, a little more aggressively. After a few moments, Weyoun’s face appeared on his screen.</p><p> </p><p>“Garak,” Weyoun smiled tightly, obviously annoyed. “I hear you’re an Ambassador now. To what do I owe the pleasure of this…visit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Weyoun,” Garak grinned back, baring his teeth just slightly. “I can only assume you’re at least Weyoun 9, perhaps even 10.”</p><p> </p><p>“11, actually,” Weyoun smiled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have accidentally found myself in Federation space, and I was attempting to correct that error before you interrupted me.”</p><p> </p><p>Garak scanned the ship. He could only detect one life sign, but there were plenty of ways to confuse a ship’s sensors. “I won’t keep you long,” Garak said. “I’m looking for someone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I assure you, I’m completely alone on this ship,” Weyoun said. “And unarmed, too. I’m sure you’ve scanned me.”</p><p> </p><p>Weyoun wasn’t smart enough to come up with the magnetic field trick. It couldn’t have been him who kidnapped Julian, but maybe he knew something useful. “Weyoun, I’m having a bad day. And I’ve been having a few bad days in a row. So I’m going to ask you a question, and if your answer isn’t to my liking, I might get annoyed,” Garak said. “I have no shortage of weapons, and the Federation might give me a medal if I brought them your head.”</p><p> </p><p>Weyoun considered this. He bowed his head and held up his palms in surrender. “What can I do for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking for Doctor Julian Bashir, or the ship that took him,” Garak said.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Weyoun startled just slightly. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will beam aboard your ship, rip off your ears, and shove them up your nose,” Garak growled. “Then I’ll do the same to number 12.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…just remembered, I may have seen him,” Weyoun flinched.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me everything,” Garak said.</p><p> </p><p>“Your doctor is on a ship from the Mirror Universe,” Weyoun said. “I sent them on a mission on behalf of the Founders.”</p><p> </p><p>“Weyoun,” Garak glared.</p><p> </p><p>“I gave them coordinates of the USS Aventine,” Weyoun said, flinching away. “I can give the same information to you, but I don’t know where they went! You’ll have to meet them at the Aventine.” Weyoun smoothed his uniform back down. “I hope they destroy <em>you, </em>too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Send the information,” Garak said. Weyoun pressed a few buttons, and the data scrolled across the bottom of Garak’s viewscreen.</p><p> </p><p>“I trust I can be on my way, now?” Weyoun asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t stop you,” Garak said. “I’d be quick about it, however. You never know who you might encounter in Federation space.”</p><p> </p><p>Weyoun blinked out of sight, and his ship darted away at warp speed. Garak laughed—he didn’t exactly have a cavalry coming that would back up his threats. But he had what he needed. Looking at Weyoun’s data, it seemed that Julian’s kidnappers would rendezvous with the Aventine in less than three days. That was plenty of time for Garak to get there first, warn them about the attack, then rescue Julian while the Aventine’s captain was busy with the kidnappers.</p><p> </p><p>Garak set his autopilot with the appropriate coordinates, and downed the rest of his tea. Everything was going perfectly. He couldn’t have asked for better luck.</p><p> </p><p>He’d always been suspicious of good luck. He wasn’t going to break that habit now. He was going to bed—in less than three days, he was going to need to be well-rested, and at his sharpest.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m coming,” he whispered, though he knew Julian couldn’t hear.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’ve convinced me,” Kelas said. “I thought he’d crack immediately, but the fact that Elim hasn’t given us away yet is a good sign.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll stick to the plan,” Julian said. <em>I’m doing this for you, </em>Elim had said. <em>Don’t leave me here, </em>Elim had said. Julian wouldn’t let him down. “Are we ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so,” Kelas said. “Once the Captain goes to sleep, I’ll go to the engine room, you guard his door. If he wakes up—“</p><p> </p><p>“—I keep him busy until the engine stops,” Julian said. “You should try to destroy some of the more delicate components. It’ll take ages to repair, which will give us plenty of time to make sure we’ve incapacitated Bashir.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got the tranquilizer?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet,” Julian said. “I’m working on it, but because he’s enhanced, I can’t figure out a dose strong enough to take him down without killing him. This is either poison, or it’ll only last ten minutes.” He set his hypospray down on the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Why <em>don’t </em>we just kill him and get it over with,” Kelas grumbled. “He’d do the same to us.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can still help him,” Julian said. “I think once he’s powerless, he’ll have no choice but to accept psychological help. Starfleet has some good therapists, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“We can worry about that later,” Kelas shook his head. “I know you want to save everyone, but we have to prioritize. We need to save our own necks first, <em>then </em>we can worry about curing Bashir.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all coming together,” Julian said, running his hand over their maps and plans. “We’re really going to do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>would </em>say we shouldn’t count our regovas before they hatch, but your blind optimism is contagious,” Kelas smiled. “I think we <em>are</em> really going to do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the first thing you’re going to do once it’s all over?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure,” Kelas said. “I’d want to go home to Cardassia—<em>my </em>Cardassia, from <em>my </em>universe—but the last time I tried that, I ended up on the Hurricane. What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Back to Deep Space Nine, I guess,” Julian shrugged. “I, um. Hmm. Well, I’ve got some research projects in the works, at least.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that all?” Kelas raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I get the feeling that there are ‘things unsaid’ between you and your Elim,” Kelas said, elbowing Julian in the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Julian flushed. “I mean…not really, we’re just friends. I mean, even if I—he wouldn’t…we’re not—“</p><p> </p><p>“In my universe,” Kelas said, “we all understand that every day could be our last. Everything is temporary. You can’t <em>not </em>tell someone how you feel…because, you know. They could be dead the next day, and you’d have to live with the regret.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s…certainly something,” Julian said. “But…I can’t live like that, you know? If I told him—not that there’s anything to tell…and he didn’t…um. But we’d never have lunch together again, and he’d stop sending me letters…our friendship is too important to me, I’d never want to make him feel like I…well—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just teasing,” Kelas patted Julian on the back. “Don’t even worry about it. Put it out of your mind. Priorities, remember? You can worry about your relationship status <em>after </em>we take the ship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Julian sighed. “But it’s not—wait, be quiet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you hear something?” Kelas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Shh…” Julian held a finger to his lips and listened. Soft footsteps. Not Bashir’s usual stomping, but too heavy to be Elim. “He’s coming,” Julian mouthed to Kelas. They both started hiding their notes and papers, shoving them under boxes and tucking them in corners.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it the Captain?” Kelas asked. “I can’t hear anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“He must be in a good mood,” Julian shrugged. He grabbed the deactivated buzzer and held it up towards his arm, to disguise that it wasn’t actually attached anymore.</p><p> </p><p>The medbay door <em>swooshed </em>open. Bashir stood on the other side, wearing an uncharacteristic smile. He carried a phaser loosely in one hand. In the other, he was dragging Elim along the floor by the ear. Elim had a burned mark in his uniform, planted directly over his shoulder, like he’d already taken phaser fire. He was slumped and only half-conscious in Bashir’s grip.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Bashir smiled widely. He threw Elim forwards into the room, who lay unmoving in a curled-up ball on the floor. “Julian. You’re planning a mutiny?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian and Kelas just stared back at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Elim told me everything,” Bashir smiled gently. In comparison to his usual demeanor, it was unexpectedly creepy. He twirled the phaser in his hand as he entered the medbay. “You thought it would be a brilliant idea if he managed forcefields from the bridge while you shut down the engine room. I can’t believe you thought he would help you. He’s a useless piece of garbage that hasn’t been in his prime for <em>years.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“That isn’t true,” Julian said. Elim was still curled up on the floor. There was a small pool of green blood beginning to form under his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I guess not,” Bashir shrugged. “He <em>is </em>excellent at following orders. When he told me what you were planning, I just couldn’t believe it. I came right down here to find out for myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“…And?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir raised the phaser and pointed it at him. “And I realized, I don’t really care if it’s true. I don’t need <em>you.</em> The <em>Dominion </em>is going to cure me, just as soon as I destroy the Aventine. So I guess this is goodbye.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to do this,” Julian said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not killing you,” Bashir rolled his eyes. “That would be <em>much </em>too quick. Kelas, restrain him.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian looked at Kelas, silently begging with his eyes. <em>Please, Kelas. I know this wasn’t the plan, and it certainly doesn’t LOOK like we’ve got much of a chance of success now, but we’ve got to try, right?</em></p><p> </p><p>Julian bit his lip. Kelas looked at Julian, then at Bashir. “No,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Bashir raised an eyebrow. “I know you were supposed to be involved too, but I’m<em> forgiving</em> you, Kelas. Don’t you appreciate what that means? Restrain Julian, and we all go back to normal. I—“</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Kelas repeated firmly, glaring up at Bashir. “I’m not taking your orders anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Bashir took a step back, staggered. “Really?” he asked, hesitantly like he didn’t quite understand.</p><p> </p><p>Kelas looked at Julian, and nodded. For a moment, it was completely still in the room, as everyone sized each other up.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir’s eyes went wide and crazed with anger. “I’ll <em>kill </em>you,” Bashir spat. He raised the phaser, and then everything moved in slow motion.</p><p> </p><p>Julian leapt at Kelas and shoved him out of the way, as the phaser blast sliced across Julian’s back. Julian rolled, and grabbed the hypospray off the desk. The tranquilizer charge wasn’t finished yet, but anything was better than nothing. Bashir lunged at Julian and they grappled, Bashir reaching for Julian’s neck and Julian trying to fend him off.</p><p> </p><p>To Kelas, it looked like they were moving at superhuman speed. The pair crashed over the desk and into the computer console. The phaser went spinning wildly across the floor, and Kelas grabbed it. He pointed it at the two Julian Bashirs, but he couldn’t get a clear shot.</p><p> </p><p>Julian made one more desperate stab with the hypospray, and Bashir caught hold of his flailing arm. Bashir <em>squeezed, </em>and against his will, Julian screamed in pain and dropped the hypospray. Bashir caught it in one hand and jammed it into Julian’s leg. With a soft <em>pssh </em>it dispensed, and Julian’s whole world went dizzy almost immediately.</p><p> </p><p>Kelas watched Julian collapse. Bashir looked up at him then, with dangerous, uncontrolled anger in his eyes. Kelas’s hands shook as his pointed the phaser.</p><p> </p><p>“S-s-stay back,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir lunged at the medbay door and escaped into the hall, dodging Kelas’s phaser shots. Kelas could hear Bashir screaming that he’d kill them all, he’d destroy the whole ship to do it.</p><p> </p><p>Kelas ran over to Julian, who was dazed, staring into the middle distance from the floor. “Come on, come on, please get up,” Kelas said, putting his arm around Julian to try and lift him. Julian swayed back and forth, his head drooping as Kelas tried to lift him.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay awake, please stay awake,” Kelas said. “You made an antidote, right? Where’s the antidote?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hngrn mmnf,” Julian slurred. Kelas couldn’t hold onto him any longer, and Julian fell next to Elim, who was still laying on the floor. “Ohhhhhhhh everything hurts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just try to stay awake,” Kelas said, crouching next to Julian. “Try to concentrate. Where did you put the antidote?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian reached out his hand. Kelas looked frantically in the direction he was pointing, but there was nothing there. “Where is it?” Kelas looked back down at Julian.</p><p> </p><p>Julian had been trying to grab Elim’s hand. He finally succeeded, brushing just the tip of his fingertips against Elim’s cold scales. “ss gonna be okay,” Julian mumbled, glassy eyes locked on Elim. “I prom’se…”</p><p> </p><p>“Julian, stay awake!” Kelas slapped Julian across the face, but it was too late. Julian passed out, which meant that Kelas was now alone, surrounded by his unconscious fellow mutineers. Bashir’s laughter echoed through the vents. Kelas shivered. Was it getting colder? What could he possibly do?</p><p> </p><p>Elim’s green blood spread slowly across the floor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Regova: A Cardassian egg-laying avian life form</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Desert Bloom, near the USS Aventine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The universe was a kind, beautiful thing, and it rewarded all of Garak’s efforts to find Julian by dumping the USS Aventine right at Garak’s feet, at exact the coordinates he had expected it to be. Garak scanned for cloaked ships as he answered their hail.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardassian ship, this is Captain Dax of the USS Aventine,” Ezri’s voice crackled over the speaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Ezri!” Garak activated his viewscreen and got a view of the Aventine’s bridge. Another stroke of luck—Ezri knew him from Deep Space Nine. Garak wouldn’t have to waste valuable time gaining an unknown captain’s trust.</p><p> </p><p>“Garak?” Ezri said. “Ambassador! What a surprise. I mean it, what—what a surprise, what are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Rescue mission,” Garak said. “It’s a long story, and I’d love to come aboard and share it, but before I do, would you scan for cloaked ships?”</p><p> </p><p>Ezri gave the order. “Is there something in particular we’re looking for?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think they’re a day or two away still,” Garak sighed. “You probably won’t find anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come about and dock in shuttle bay 2,” Ezri said. Not long after, Garak was escorted to the briefing room by a human, Ezri’s second in command.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Ezri asked. “I thought you were still on Cardassia, handling the resource distribution from the Federation aid program.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is where I should be,” Garak said tightly. “Did you receive the captains’ news report last week, the one that said ‘Debris field along shuttle route 87754, probably a class 3 shuttle missing escape pods, no organic material?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose so,” Ezri frowned. “I don’t quite remember. But how did <em>you </em>get ahold of that?”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t matter right now,” Garak shook his head. “Julian was aboard that ship, he was captured in an attack by an alien vessel, and Starfleet is ignoring it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Ezri asked. “I find it hard to believe that—“</p><p> </p><p>“I was told his genetic status makes him a second-class citizen, and not worth the effort it would take to find him,” Garak said. “Call Admiral Corvin Slayton yourself, if you must. He’ll tell you there’s no evidence of an attack and that all necessary energy has been expended already.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s ridiculous,” Ezri said. “Poor Julian…We have to find him. What can I do to help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Garak said. “He’s coming to us. The Dominion asked his kidnappers to attack your ship and gave them your coordinates.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!?” Ezri was becoming increasingly upset.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s how I found you, I found the Dominion ship and they sent me here,” Garak said. “Since I arrived first, all we have to do is wait for the attack, fend them off, and rescue Julian. They should be here in less than two days.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. That’s all we have to do. Simple,” Ezri sighed. “I…I’m going to need more details. Will you prepare a report? Meanwhile, I’ll order scans and set us at yellow alert.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Garak said. “And I will include my <em>evidence </em>that Julian has been kidnapped, which didn’t convince your superiors, but I’m sure you’ll find it compelling.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be ready for an attack,” Ezri said. “But, Garak…how do you know Julian is still alive?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t,” Garak said bitterly. He had no real answer to give, why he thought Julian was still alive. All he knew was that he desperately needed it to be true.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julian woke up with a terrible headache. It was an effort just to force his eyes to open and face the sizzling overhead lights. Julian blinked a few times, eyes crusty with sleep. He felt awful.</p><p> </p><p>“Wake up,” Kelas was saying. “Come on… Julian! Wake up!”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s happening?” Julian blinked again. His brain felt all fuzzy. He was lying on the floor. He shivered—it seemed colder than he remembered.</p><p> </p><p>“Bashir said he’s going to destroy the ship,” Kelas said. “You have to wake up, come on…”</p><p> </p><p>Memory flooded back. Julian groaned and sat up. He put his hand down in something wet. He looked down. It was green and sticky.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s cold,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re telling me,” Kelas scowled. “At least you can shiver, <em>mammal. </em>I think Bashir wrecked the life support system.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to stop him,” Julian said, rubbing at his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re out of tranquilizer,” Kelas said. “And we’re out of antidote now, too. I only found one dose, and I used it on you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Julian groaned. “Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about me,” Kelas said. He jerked his head behind him. Julian looked over, and saw Elim.</p><p> </p><p>“Julian,” Elim said. “You’re…you’re awake.” He was holding a stained, dirty cloth over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Elim,” Julian said, suddenly completely alert. “You’re alive!”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like it,” Elim coughed.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s been shot, but don’t worry,” Kelas said. He held up a phaser. “I’ve got Bashir’s phaser, so we’ve got a bit of an upper hand, I hope.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are there any more on the ship?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Elim shook his head. “The Captain didn’t want us to be able to arm ourselves.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess that’s working out in our favor, now,” Julian said. “What do we do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Now that you’re awake, if you’re up for it, we stick to the plan,” Kelas said. “I’ll go to the engine room. You have to find Bashir and deal with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got it,” Julian said. He managed to get to his feet, only swaying a little. “I think I’m up to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I still supposed to do forcefields from the bridge? …I might need some help getting there,” Elim said quietly. He was still pressing the cloth to his shoulder, and now Julian could see that it was stained green, just like the floor. Elim looked paler than usual, too.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to regroup,” Julian said. “Maybe we should take some time to recover before we split up? Elim, you can’t—“ Julian froze. He heard (or at least imagined he heard) Bashir’s laugher echoing through the vents above them.</p><p> </p><p>“I can make it,” Elim coughed. “I can help, I’ll…I said I’d do it. I said I’d help.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>betrayed us </em>to the Captain, just like I knew you would!” Kelas glared. “We don’t <em>need </em>your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean to,” Elim said weakly. “I wanted to keep it secret. I really tried—“</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have time to throw around blame,” Julian said firmly. “It’s only getting colder the longer we talk. I need to get to the life support system and turn up the heat, otherwise the cold might get you the two of you before Bashir does.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we should split up now,” Kelas said. “I’ll go to the engine room, and work on taking out the warp core.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go to the bridge,” Elim said. He stood, wavered, and promptly fell backwards onto his seat. “I just need to catch my breath.”</p><p> </p><p>“We should all go together,” Julian said. “At least until we know where Bashir is, there’s safety in numbers. We’ll go to life support first.”</p><p> </p><p>Elim couldn’t stand on his own. Julian and Kelas had to grab him by the shoulders and support him. Elim winced as he flexed the injured shoulder, but he kept quiet, and he didn’t complain. The little trio limped awkwardly down the hall, alert for any sign that Bashir was nearby.</p><p> </p><p>“Life support is this way,” Kelas turned left down the hall. The door was already open, and smoke was faintly drifting out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“That can’t be good,” Julian groaned.</p><p> </p><p>Upon further examination, it was not good. Julian and Kelas set Elim down, leaning him upright against the wall. Elim hissed as he settled into place. Julian investigated the life support system. The device itself looked intact, but the controls were completely busted. Julian didn’t even try to touch them; the glass desktop was shattered into thin shards, with electricity sparking between them. Next to the life support, abandoned on the floor, was a solid-looking wrench. Julian picked it up and examined it.</p><p> </p><p>“The controls are useless,” Julian sighed. He threw the wrench back on the ground. “We need to open it up and access the secondary bypass.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I can do that,” Kelas frowned. “It looks pretty similar to a life-support system in my old hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I do to help?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you find a phase-coil inducer?” Kelas asked. He looked around. “Or a blanket. Something that’ll keep me warm while I work.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is no temperature for a Cardassian,” Julian grumbled. He knelt next to some boxes and began dumping them out, looking for tools.</p><p> </p><p>“If I can just finish this before my fingers freeze off…” Kelas hugged his arms around his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” Julian said. He handed Kelas a mostly-functional phase-coil inducer.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Kelas said. He opened up a panel on the side of the life support system, and began working on it. Julian leaned out the door, keeping an eye out for Bashir.</p><p> </p><p>“Julian,” Elim coughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, shh,” Julian said. He knelt next to Elim. “It’s okay, don’t try to talk—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Elim said. “I didn’t mean to tell him—“</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know,” Julian said.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re mad at me,” Elim shook his head. “I know you are. But I—“ Elim groaned, and doubled over, clutching his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Julian said. He bit his lip nervously, trying to think. He ripped a piece of fabric off of his pants. He gently reached out and took the damp cloth out of Elim’s hand. He folded the square from his pants, and pressed it up against Elim’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so warm,” Elim put his hands over Julian’s and lowered his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, bud, it’s because I’m a mammal,” Julian said. He immediately regretted saying it. <em>Bud? </em>Why was he so weird?</p><p> </p><p>“No, wait, you have to listen,” Elim looked up at Julian. “I didn’t mean to tell about the mutiny. I swear—“</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Julian said softly. “It’s okay—“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em>not okay,” </em>Elim winced in pain as he struggled to speak. “But I didn’t tell. He must have overheard when we were in the medbay, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“Shh,” Julian said. “You shouldn’t try to talk. You’ve lost a lot of blood…but it’s gonna be okay, I’m going to fix it, as soon as we stop Bashir. I promise.” Elim was still bleeding, and Julian’s pant square was soaked through. Julian decided to risk exposing Elim to the cold to get a better look at what was wrong with him. He gently moved Elim’s hands away, and ripped open Elim’s shirt. The phaser burn was clearly marked out in green on Elim’s pale skin, but the wound was cauterized by the burn. Where was the blood coming from?</p><p> </p><p>Julian felt Elim’s side, and his hand brushed against something sharp. Elim hissed in pain, and Julian pulled back. He scrambled for a flashlight on the floor, and fortunately there was one in the same box that held the phase-coil inducer. He moved around Elim’s side, and examined him under a light. He could see thin, metallic slivers sticking out of Elim’s side.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Julian asked.</p><p> </p><p>“The Captain. I think it’s just an isolinear chip,” Elim coughed. “Or two. Or…three. No more than four.”</p><p> </p><p>“The ends have broken off, they’re stuck inside you,” Julian winced. “I can’t remove them, not without making it worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll survive,” Elim smiled weakly. “I always have before.”</p><p> </p><p>With so much of Elim’s shirt ripped away, Julian could see that he was covered in scars. They criss-crossed all up and down his chest. Some were small and circular, like phaser fire, and one was particularly large, circling Elim’s neck. Julian forced himself to stop staring.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to keep you warm, that’s the most important thing,” Julian said. He covered Elim back up with the shreds of his shirt, but it wasn’t enough. Julian took off his own Starfleet uniform jacket, dirty after days of captivity, but still usable. He tucked it around Elim, careful to avoid the isolinear chips he’d been stabbed with.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait… there’s something more important,” Elim said, eyes wide. “I…the Captain doesn’t care about the life support, this was a distraction!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Julian asked. “How do you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t,” Elim shook his head. “But…it makes sense. Destroying the life support gets rid of me and Kelas, but to stop you, he’d need—“</p><p> </p><p>“The Mirror technology,” Julian realized. “He could beam me into space. He could beam me into another <em>universe.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“He could <em>escape,</em>” Elim coughed. “You have to—“ Elim coughed several more times, doubling over. Julian held him by the shoulders, trying to stabilize him. “You have to stop him,” Elim said.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t leave you right now,” Julian said. “Not like this. I promised I’d take care of you. I promised I’d get you out.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t do that if the Captain gets to the transporter first,” Elim said.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s right,” Kelas said, looking up from the life support system. “I’ll stay here with Elim and get the heat back online. You should go.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if you need me here?” Julian asked. “If it gets much colder, you won’t be able to move. And Elim—“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Elim said. “You’ll come back. I know you will.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian looked down at Elim, still bruised on the forehead, bleeding from the ear where Bashir had grabbed him. Covered in a million tiny scrapes and injuries that Julian was desperate to fix. “I <em>will </em>come back,” Julian said firmly. He leaned down and gently kissed Elim on the forehead spoon. He blushed, realizing he’d never even done that for Garak. “I promise,” Julian said, blinking fiercely to keep from getting teary.</p><p> </p><p>“Go!” Kelas gestured with one hand.</p><p> </p><p>Julian took one final look around the room, grabbed the wrench in one hand, and took off for the engine room and the Mirror transporter device.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Ten Forward, The USS Aventine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garak choked down a cup of the best tea Starfleet replicators could manage. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to get the “Starfleet” taste out of his mouth. Everything out of a Human replicator was always just a touch too sugary.</p><p> </p><p>He stared out one of the windows, willing Julian’s kidnappers to warp into existence in front of him. He felt useless, sitting around in a break room, just waiting for something to happen. He could go back to the Desert Bloom, of course, but what would be the point? He’d be just as useless there as he was here.</p><p> </p><p>“Thinking about something?” Ezri came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose so,” Garak said, staring down at his tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Ezri asked, standing beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Not if it’s going to be like the time you ‘cured’ me of my claustrophobia,” Garak said.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Ezri smiled. “I’m just here as a friend.”</p><p> </p><p>They stared out the window together for a little while.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there any news?” Garak asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing on sensors yet,” Ezri shook her head. “But we’ll be ready. My crew are professionals.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Garak nodded. He tapped his fingers nervously against his teacup.</p><p> </p><p>“I seem to recall,” Ezir said slowly, carefully not looking at him, “that when I tried to cure your claustrophobia, I discovered you were actually worried about the war…you were worried that your people were getting hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“I seem to recall saying, not even two minutes ago, that I didn’t wish to discuss it,” Garak flashed his sharp teeth at her.</p><p> </p><p>Ezri, used to him by now, forged on unaffected. “But that’s what the problem is <em>now, </em>isn’t it? You’re worried that someone you care about has gotten hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hardly a difficult deduction,” Garak sighed. “I <em>did </em>travel all the way here looking for him. Of <em>course </em>I’m worried whether or not he’s safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“If he’s alive, we’ll find him,” Ezri said, rubbing Garak’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the <em>if </em>that worries me,” Garak said, pulling away. “After all this…what if he <em>is </em>dead? I shouldn’t be so affected. I’ve seen so much death before…but this feels…different.”</p><p> </p><p>“You really care for Julian,” Ezri said. “He means something different to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“He <em>is </em>a good friend,” Garak said. “…the best I ever had, I think. I would do anything to bring him back home, and I know he’d do the same for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Ezri sighed. “A friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sound disappointed,” Garak raised an eyebrow. “Have I said something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Garak…” Ezri shook her head. She paused, trying to figure out what she meant to say. “Assume Julian <em>does </em>come back, safe and sound. What will you do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Return to Cardassia, I suppose,” Garak said carefully. “My work there is important. I’ve already been away too long.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Ezri said. “And you’re completely happy to let Julian wander back to Deep Space Nine alone?”</p><p> </p><p>“What am I <em>supposed </em>to be?” Garak snapped. “Should I be planning an elaborate declaration of love, perhaps? Should I be preparing to whisk him away to Cardassia, where I can keep him safe, instead of worrying he’s getting himself hurt halfway across the quadrant?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Ezri shrugged. “You could be fantasizing about Julian fainting dramatically into your arms as you ride off into the sunset. That’s what I’d be doing, if it was <em>my…</em>well.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garak grumbled. “I have made my interest <em>more </em>than plain in the past, and he’s never once showed signs of reciprocating.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right,” Ezri said sarcastically. “Because that time you leaned slightly closer to him or something was <em>so </em>obvious.”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you that in <em>confidence, </em>so I would prefer you not share it with the entire <em>ship,” </em>Garak glared. “And Cardassian body language is a complex, unique language, so—yes, it <em>was </em>obvious.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not to a human,” Ezri said. “And I bet you didn’t think anything of it when Julian brought a rose to dinner, back when we were still on the station?”</p><p> </p><p>“I remember that,” Garak frowned. “It was a thoughtful gift. A choice delicacy on a space station. It was delicious.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a human courtship ritual, and you completely ignored it,” Ezri crossed her arms. “You <em>ate </em>it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Was eating it not the appropriate response?” Garak asked. “Was I supposed to let it go to <em>waste?”</em></p><p> </p><p>“I think you should consider telling Julian how you feel, directly,” Ezri said. “None of your subtleties that go over his head.”</p><p> </p><p>“What a wonderful idea,” Garak deadpanned. “I’ll be sure to keep it under advisement if we find him alive, as opposed to his corpse.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m doing a bad job of this,” Ezri sighed. “I was trying to make you feel <em>better,</em> not worse. You’ve been scaring all the cadets out of Ten Forward.”</p><p> </p><p>Garak looked around. So he had. He’d <em>wondered </em>why he’d been able to enjoy such unprecedented peace and quiet. He turned back to Ezri. “I…My apologies. You helped. A little. This was…an acceptable conversation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, high praise,” Ezri grinned. Her comm badge chirped, and she tapped it.</p><p> </p><p>“Bridge to Dax,” the badge said.</p><p> </p><p>“Go ahead,” Ezri said.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s something up here you should see, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>Ezri looked up at Garak. She tapped her badge. “I’m on my way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think it’s the ship that took Julian?” Garak asked. “Did we finally find them?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose we’ll know soon enough,” Ezri said. “Join me on the bridge?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am at your service,” Garak nodded his head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Hurricane, Deep Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julian raced down the hall to the engine room. If he only had the time to whip up another batch of tranquilizer…but there was no point dwelling on it now. He had the wrench, and he’d just have to hope it would be enough to stop Bashir.</p><p> </p><p>The temperature was noticeably colder now, and Julian felt like every nerve ending on him was alive, moving at super speed. He <em>would </em>stop Bashir, or he would die trying. He <em>was </em>going to save Elim and Kelas, there was simply no other option.</p><p> </p><p>He charged into the darkness of the engine room. He looked frantically for a light switch, but there was no time—he heard the clattering of a vent cover landing on the floor. Bashir was here.</p><p> </p><p>Julian stepped carefully around the storage boxes littering the floor. “Bashir, I don’t want to hurt you.” The only response that came was Bashir’s snort of laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Julian carefully made his way towards the Mirror technology, navigating only by the purple light of the pulsing warp core and the soft hum of the device itself. Should he destroy it? It would be the best way to guarantee Bashir couldn’t use it, but it would also trap an angry Bashir on the ship with them.</p><p> </p><p>Julian squinted in the darkness, trying to spot Bashir. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to destroy the device and deal with the consequences later. He raised the wrench in one hand, and just as he did, felt a sharp <em>tug </em>behind him as Bashir tried to rip it out of his grasp. Julian whirled around, and suddenly found himself trapped. Bashir threw a sheet over his head, and was trying to wrap the end of it around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Julian thrashed violently as he started to black out, managing to throw Bashir over his shoulder and into the wall. Bashir crashed against it, as boxes and tools fell to the ground around him. Julian gasped for air as he pulled the sheet off of him.</p><p> </p><p>“You think you’re<em> better</em> than me?” Bashir yelled. He leapt at Julian, vicious and out of control. They both fell to the floor. Bashir screamed as he clawed at Julian’s face. “You think you can steal my <em>ship? </em>My <em>crew?!?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Julian rolled as much as he could, as Bashir’s blows landed on his back. He struck upwards with the wrench, but Bashir dodged sideways.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t deserve your crew!” Julian yelled back, scrambling away. He held the wrench in both hands in front of him. “They’re <em>people, </em>not your slaves!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll kill you!” Bashir screamed, clearly lost in his own world. He launched himself at Julian again, and they tumbled over the floor together. Julian felt the sting of shattered glass cutting into his arms and cheek. He swung wildly with the wrench again, and managed to clip Bashir in the side of the head. Bashir reeled away for a moment, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>Julian frantically looked around. He needed rope, something to tie Bashir’s hands with, but before he could find anything, Bashir howled and kicked Julian in the face. Julian crashed backwards, head slamming into the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll show you, I’ll show you,” Bashir muttered, over and over again. Julian struggled to stand up, but Bashir slammed his foot down on his chest. There was a soft, barely-perceptible cracking sound. Julian groaned in pain.</p><p> </p><p>Bashir ran to the Mirror transporter, eyes dangerous and calculating. “You think you’re better than me…I’ll <em>show </em>you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, don’t…” Julian coughed, and he almost screamed from the pain. “You hurt so many people, please just <em>stop. </em>Elim and Kelas are <em>terrified </em>of you, don’t you miss having real <em>friends? </em>And family?”</p><p> </p><p>Bashir hesitated for just a moment over the controls. Julian pressed on.</p><p> </p><p>“I can still help you,” Julian said. “Please, just step away from there and <em>let me help you.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Bashir looked at Julian, and for a moment, Julian thought he might agree. But then Bashir’s face went sour. “You can’t help me,” Bashir snarled. He slammed his fist down on the controls, and disappeared in a flash of transporter energy.</p><p> </p><p>Julian held his breath, waiting for the final blow, waiting to get beamed into space…but it never came. Bashir was gone. Where? Back to his own universe? Had he accidentally beamed <em>himself</em> into space?</p><p> </p><p>Julian didn’t know, and in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. So Bashir was gone, and Julian couldn’t save him. It didn’t matter. There were still two Cardassians under his care, and Julian wouldn’t give up on them. He struggled to stand, and picked the wrench up off the floor. He went to the Mirror device, braced himself, and smashed it to pieces. Wherever Bashir was now, he was trapped there, and he couldn’t come back. Julian put it out of his mind, and tried to focus. He had to get back to life support.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly made his way down the hall, doing his best not to trip over the loose debris of the disorganized ship. He stumbled into the life support room, colder than ever. “Kelas,” Julian groaned. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas moaned softly. Julian dragged himself over to the life support. Kelas lay on the floor, flushed blue and green with cold. “I couldn’t fix it,” Kelas said.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try,” Julian said, looking up at the device. His vision swam as he tried to focus on the controls.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t,” Kelas shook his head slowly. “It’s too far gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are we going to do?” Julian asked. He collapsed next to Kelas. “Maybe if I could get to the medbay, I could find some blankets…” He blinked. He was forgetting something. “Elim…he’s already unconscious?”</p><p> </p><p>“Elim is gone,” Kelas whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Julian sat up, grunting with pain. He looked frantically around the room, but there was no sign of Elim. “He’s buried under something? I’ll dig him out!”</p><p> </p><p>“Elim is gone,” Kelas coughed, body seizing up with cold. “There was a flash…the transporter…”</p><p> </p><p>Realization crashed down over Julian. Bashir had taken Elim with him. And wherever the two of them were, Julian had trapped them there. They weren’t coming back.</p><p> </p><p>Julian just felt… numb. And cold. Elim was gone…he couldn’t even process it. Julian had completely failed. He hadn’t cured Bashir, he’d lost Elim, and he couldn’t save Kelas.</p><p> </p><p>Elim had begged Julian not to leave him behind. Julian felt like he was going to throw up.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt next to Kelas, barely able to focus. With the life support out, they were both doomed. Kelas would go quickly, his lizard-like structure unadapted to cold, but Julian’s would be slower, more agonizing, as his mammalian body tried to keep him functional. Maybe he’d get lucky and the oxygen system would cut out next.</p><p> </p><p>“Kelas,” Julian whispered hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. For everything…”</p><p> </p><p>Kelas didn’t respond. Julian drooped his head. With all of his injuries, he wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. He took Kelas’s hand. It was cold and clammy to the touch, like he was already dead.</p><p> </p><p>A bright flash of light appeared behind Julian. He barely had the strength to turn and look at it. He squinted upwards, trying to see. He could just make out Starfleet uniforms, and the tall, imposing form of…</p><p> </p><p>“Garak?” Julian coughed weakly.</p><p> </p><p><em>His </em>Garak.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Hurricane, near the USS Aventine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Aventine detected a ship with two life signs, one human, one Cardassian. Both were faint and failing quickly. Ion analysis indicated that the ship was likely from the Mirror Universe, and Ezri had advised all necessary precautions. Garak was on the away team, beaming directly to the site of the life signs. He had no witty comments to make about it, though he’d once teased Sisko for letting him join missions…he was completely focused.</p><p> </p><p>He climbed onto the transporter pad, surrounded by Humans in Starfleet uniforms, and tried to ignore the sugary taste still coating his mouth from the bad tea. He felt like he was going to suffocate, but there was no time to get caught up in anxieties.</p><p> </p><p>The transporter energy surrounded them, and the Aventine disappeared, replaced by a dark, poorly lit room. It was <em>freezing, </em>and Garak felt the effects immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Garak?” There was a soft cough from below him. The Starfleet officers clicked on their flashlights, and Garak looked down.</p><p> </p><p>He sat hunched over, a few days growth of beard on his face, and a dejected, hopeless look in his eye. It was Julian Bashir…<em>his </em>Julian, Garak knew it immediately, despite the uncharacteristic way he stared up at Garak. Julian was always so bubbly and optimistic, but right now, he was hollowed out, empty. It chilled Garak almost as much as the temperature.</p><p> </p><p>“Julian,” Garak knelt next to him. “Julian…”</p><p> </p><p>“Garak,” Julian repeated it. He slowly reached up his hand, and touched Garak on the cheek, like he couldn’t believe he was real. Garak took Julian’s hand in his own, pressing it against his cheek. Julian was always so warm, but his skin was noticeably colder than usual. His hands were dirty and rough. Garak looked down and saw that Julian’s arms were scraped up with tiny cuts, some of which still had shards of glass stuck in them. Julian was missing his Starfleet uniform, stripped down to just his undershirt. He looked awful.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s alive,” one of the Starfleet officers said. He was scanning someone collapsed behind Julian. He tapped his comm badge. “This is Bowers. Three for emergency beam out, directly to sickbay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Copy,” the badge chirped.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Garak said. He held Julian close against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Correction, four to beam out,” Bowers said. Garak clutched Julian in his arms as the transporter energy enveloped them.</p><p> </p><p>They reappeared in the Aventine sickbay, and were immediately swarmed by doctors. Garak watched a Cardassian that looked suspiciously like Parmak be lifted and moved to a bed. Someone tried to pull Garak away from Julian, and he was almost going to let them, but Julian tangled his fingers in Garak’s shirt and refused to let go.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t leave,” Julian said, desperately grabbing at Garak despite his weakness. “Not you too, I can’t—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’m right here,” Garak said, “but you have to let the doctors treat you, you’re—“</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t go,” Julian said it again, and it broke Garak’s heart.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t go anywhere,” Garak promised. “I’m right here. I won’t go anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian went limp in Garak’s arms, relaxing just slightly. Garak allowed the doctors to pick him up and move him to a bed, scanning him with tricorders and all sorts of Starfleet devices.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me, Ambassador,” one of the doctors said. “We need you to leave, we’re—“</p><p> </p><p>Garak hissed at him angrily, showing off all of his teeth. “He told me to stay. I’m <em>staying.”</em></p><p> </p><p>The doctor took one look at Garak and decided the effort of forcing him out wasn’t worth it. Garak sat in a chair and watched as they started to treat Julian. Garak could just barely understand what they were talking about—he heard something about cracked ribs, and something about a head injury—but his world narrowed to the glimpses of Julian that he could see between the doctors as they moved about. Julian’s hand twitched, and it took every ounce of Garak’s self control not to run to him, shove the doctors out of the way and take Julian in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“This may take a while,” one of the doctors eventually told Garak. “You might be more comfortable if you slept, and came back in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m staying here,” Garak glared. The doctor moved away. Garak looked at Julian, and he was alive. He would be okay. Nothing else mattered.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Sickbay, the USS Aventine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julian woke up with a variety of aches and pains, not least of which was his ribs. It was an effort just to force his eyes to open, and face the soft overhead lights. Julian blinked a few times, eyes crusty with sleep. He felt…surprisingly comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t bother trying to sit up, everything hurt too much. But he looked to his right, and was relieved to see Kelas, alive, sleeping peacefully in another bed. Julian then looked to his left, where Garak was sitting next to him, pretending to sleep. Julian could tell Garak wasn’t really sleeping, though. He was alert, he was tense, he was watching Julian, but he was trying not to be overbearing about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Julian smiled. The words came out hoarse. His throat was dry.</p><p> </p><p>Garak went through a show of pretending to be woken. “Hmm? Oh. You’re awake.” He stretched, and performed a fake yawn. Julian smiled, not fooled for an instant. “Hey yourself,” Garak finally said, looking over at Julian.</p><p> </p><p>“You stayed with me?” Julian asked happily. “Aw, you didn’t have to.”</p><p> </p><p>“You…asked me to,” Garak said awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>Julian blinked, trying to remember. He was on the Hurricane, and Kelas told him that Elim was gone…Julian shuddered at the memory. Elim <em>was </em>gone. It hurt all over again to think about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you all right?” Garak asked. He leaned just slightly closer to the bed. “What’s wrong? Should I call the doctors?”</p><p> </p><p>Everything wasn’t all right. Julian was a failure. If the Aventine hadn’t rescued them, they would have died. And Julian couldn’t help but think that it would have been his fault, just like it had been his fault that Bashir hadn’t gotten help, and that Elim was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Overall, though, he was physically fine. He flexed his fingers and the skin on his arms stretched with the characteristic stiffness of a dermal regenerator. He was going to be fine, he’d just have to rest a little while. He pushed down the thoughts telling him he would have deserved to die on the Hurricane for breaking his promise to Elim. He was alive, and he should be grateful.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m okay,” Julian sighed. It occurred to him then to wonder what Ambassador Garak was doing on the USS Aventine when he <em>should </em>be home on Cardassia. “Garak? What are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“…Looking for you,” Garak said, after an awkward pause. He flushed bright green. “Your…Well. Your weekly letter was late. I was worried.”</p><p> </p><p>It was good to see Garak, alive and healthy right in front of him. On the Hurricane, Julian’s world had narrowed to the ship, and when Elim was gone, for a moment Julian felt like he’d lost Garak, too. Julian was unimaginably relieved to see Garak here, even if he <em>should </em>have been on Cardassia. If his ribs didn’t hurt so much, Julian would have sat up and hugged him, as hard as he could.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re…quiet,” Garak said. “Are you feeling all right? What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Julian considered the question. He’d probably have to write a report to Starfleet about it, but it still felt so new. Raw. He felt like some of the details were<em> his</em>, and he didn’t really want to share them.</p><p> </p><p>He told Garak an abridged version of the story, from waking up in the Hurricane medbay to smashing the Mirror technology. He left out the way Elim had been fragile and breakable, and how it had reminded Julian of when Garak’s implant had acted up. He left out the way he’d begged Elim to help them, and how Elim had begged not to be left behind. He left out the way he’d kissed Elim on the spoon, and how he wished now that he could do the same to Garak. How even now, Julian wanted to make sure Garak was really there, that this wasn’t all some horrible nightmare before the cold finally killed him.</p><p> </p><p>“It was like some kind of nightmare,” Julian finished. “Looking at Bashir…he had <em>my</em> face, and they were just so scared of him. I was, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s…Kelas Parmak?” Garak raised an eyebrow and gestured at Kelas, sleeping just a bed away.</p><p> </p><p>“From the Mirror Universe, yes,” Julian said. “He’s wonderful. You’ll like him. He’s cynical, like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I have good reason to be, don’t I, my dear?” Garak shrugged. “I’m just…relieved you’re okay,” Garak coughed awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for rescuing me,” Julian smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“I would never give you up,” Garak said, and he meant it. He wondered when would be an appropriate time to warn Julian about Starfleet’s lack of attention to his kidnapping. This was probably not the moment. Julian needed to rest, after all.</p><p> </p><p>“You said in your letter,” Julian started awkwardly, “that we should read <em>Regnar in the Sun </em>next, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Garak said, startled by the change in topic. But if Julian wanted to act as if nothing in particular had happened to him, Garak could oblige. “It’s a fascinating novel, and the story of the consequences for the author after publishing is even more intriguing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me about it,” Julian said, settling back into bed. Garak talked, and Julian’s eyes drooped until he fell back asleep, breathing softly. Once Garak was sure he was sound asleep, he put his hand on Julian’s, feeling the heat of him. He was alive. He was safe. Something had happened to him, something Garak could tell he was keeping to himself, but who was Garak to judge a person for keeping secrets? Garak was just happy to have Julian back, and the worries about what they would do next could wait another day.</p><p> </p><p>Parmak wouldn’t believe it, Garak thought with a wry smile, but Garak had done it. He’d found his Desert Bloom.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Desert Bloom, in the USS Aventine's Shuttle Bay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re sure you’re all right?” Ezri hugged Julian one more time. “I can’t convince you to stay another day?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure, Ezri,” Julian grinned, hugging her back. “Your doctors really fixed me up. I’m good to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it was lovely having you here! Even under the circumstances,” Ezri said. “Ambassador, Mr. Parmak, you as well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Garak nodded his head. Kelas just smiled tightly. He was wrapped in a blanket, and the doctors had recommended he take a few more days to rest before any serious activity. All the same, he was accompanying Garak back to Cardassia, where he hoped to make a new life for himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll write you!” Julian waved.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodbye!” Ezri waved. “Safe travels!”</p><p> </p><p>Julian, Garak, and Kelas stepped into the Desert Bloom, and the door sealed behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to lie down,” Kelas grumbled. “If there’s a problem…please, feel free <em>not </em>to wake me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Down there on your left,” Garak pointed Kelas towards a bedroom. Kelas shuffled off in his blanket, like a little turtle. Julian and Garak went to the bridge. Julian sat at communications, and Garak settled down at navigation. They pulled out of the shuttle bay, and left the Aventine behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Garak said. “Where am I taking you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Deep Space Nine, I suppose,” Julian shrugged. “That’s where I was heading before all…well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Garak said. He fiddled with a few of his controls. “But…if you wanted…perhaps you could come to Cardassia, and continue your recovery there. The station’s artificial lights could hardly compare to Cardassia’s sun on your face.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that,” Julian sighed, relaxing into his chair. “The Commander gave me some time off, after all. I’d love to see your home.”</p><p> </p><p>“You…you could stay on Cardassia for a little while, if you wanted,” Garak offered.</p><p> </p><p>“But where would I live?” Julian asked, confused.</p><p> </p><p>Garak steeled himself. This was his moment. “You could stay with me,” Garak offered, breaking half of Cardassia’s social norms with such an overt declaration.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s so thoughtful!” Julian smiled. “Thank you, Garak.”</p><p> </p><p>Clearly, Julian didn’t get it. Garak was going to have to be even <em>more </em>obvious. “Julian,” Garak tried again, flushing bright green with embarrassment. “I meant, would you like to stay <em>with </em>me,” Garak said.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Julian said, cocking his head sideways.</p><p> </p><p>Garak sighed and resigned himself to his fate—Julian just didn’t see him that way. Garak should be smart enough to know not to continue this line of discussion.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll, um, get you some tea,” Julian said, all in a rush. He stood and hurried to the replicator. Garak peered after him. Julian was nervously tapping his fingers against the wall as he waited for the tea to finish. When he returned, he handed the tea to Garak and sat back in his chair, looking pointedly away. Was something bothering him?</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?” Garak asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Are <em>you </em>okay?” Julian looked over. He was blushing furiously, the same shade of red Garak had seen him wear a hundred times before, at the Replimat with some crush or other. Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think you—I don’t know what to say,” Garak said awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think <em>you…</em>I mean, <em>I </em>do…” Julian said, fumbling over the words. He leaned slightly closer to Garak, and he was missing half a dozen signals, but it wasn’t a bad approximation of Cardassian body language.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I <em>see,” </em>Garak smiled. “Oh <em>my.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Julian shrugged, still blushing. “If <em>you </em>want to…I would really like to stay with you, Garak.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d very much like to have you, my dear,” Garak smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Then they both looked up at the viewscreen, but Julian held out his hand, and they touched the tips of their fingers together under the console.</p><p> </p><p>“I started reading <em>Regnar in the Sun </em>in sickbay, and if you think that qualifies as <em>fascinating?” </em>Julian snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep reading,” Garak said. “Give it a chance. I’m sure you’ll love it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what?” Julian said, rubbing his fingertips over Garak’s palm. “I think I just might.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow! I've finally finished. Thanks for sticking around and giving me a read :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a tumblr now! It's @occasionalstorytelling.tumblr.com. Feel free to interact with me here, there, or anywhere! You will also see a link to my Kofi in my tumblr header, if you'd be interested in supporting a 20-something living in their parent's home due to covid.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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